
#y. 


r ^ * 



r- 


% / 


aA S 

•. Jiv t * VJHK* .,'•'* ^ -.SR?, 

/' l : « S S 4 \^ , „ ^ y 0 , k ^ J.O 


v*' 


-V s 
c * ^ 


\° 




r CV C ” ~ * <7> 

^ * -a 5 ^V .v X A \ V JKjf// 

* -AKrA^ 


x 0 ^. 



^ * 8 . V * A° s * * , * a !> 

> ,O v S s ' + c* 

. A A*'*' 

- </', 


4 Vj G> >/ > (LV 

^ s\” ',, '% 5 '" v> *' *v 

* ^ ,^v X * ^\js? /A © A' w . ' 

; , 1 1 A' ^ «V « £ "u'-i . >/ , -O A ,l ' 

x^U— BKsX - » SN viSlJZ/'. /.h z 


w> «/ ^ v 


**■' '\ °, '€?Cn> 

c*r. » 




4> **> 

Z '7 J 


,J o 0 X 


\ a ’J C’ 

s \ ^ "~l f y o * v. ^ <0 

,7 A ' 8 * '© 0 > c 0 N 

■* ' * ° ,° .‘^ 


X’ 


0 o. 


■> s 0 \ 


« 

*' ~ A *7** X- 

4 J> ■%. * ^zffi)' 1 -*- * o 

* ^ -. *>. ♦,,.■> '.i°‘ 4 ../<V »»N0’ S t 


c- 


1 * 0 



y i 


% J " c ^ o\ 

WW//A r * * l & 



<\ ''' 7* S s ’ A 






A ' 




^ Tv 0 X „ 

^ : 4 ^ >. ^ 


X* ^ 


\^2P^ 


y i 


V A, 


. _ , _ \>=9..' 'p=; ” .v\^ «/> o u,',. x, .v c,*’ 

^ ^ \vg$Sr* ,x ■>+ ''■jvK* A 

t’- a oW <^ /, /;.s' a A o v 

O. .0 V c 0 ’ « ^ ,A N « Vft * O’ ON 

x* * r4S^ z A N v -7 0 Cl c 

x < r z- ,\ 4 jj&’/i-'t^? * v * ~s; 

' ,; o o' ' '. - 1 - > .' - *o o' =' 

j -t. 'imm; p°«. , _ ,,_ 

o p.0 C' * ' or 1 9- 

N °" ^ ^ "'* 0 ' 


«v 


r^' 





k v 


\V ^ 58 fW 

.V '<*. 

o- 'Ca 5> A O.V 

* * S ' <\ % y o * * * A° 

a A « v 8 « o. .0 k c 0 0 >? 

\v v x 'p A ^wr%> ° u ■> 

^ a x ^ ' gm& * *> \ 

^ •* O 0 X c ^ 


0 0 



-1 



x X V 

' 


A o 

C ^ *V 


r\ o 




w o r 

" -> ** ^ 
* 0 N 0 5 ^ 




1 // C 


ho’ ^ Y 


f 'p 


# - , 

<V> 

I y ’ aU ^ ** , 

r 0 k c 0 N c k <1 

C> 5 t-fWv A 'f-' 

A. cS^V * A J- ■}*■ 


<S~ J L j ^- 

\V (P ^ '-' v vJ <» C y ’«<, 

^ ^ e Jvj?W.~ „/ , 

<r 4- 


" c3 "”" *> l Si £> -i _ 




.V v ^'*. \ °* x , 0 * 6 c*"«« "•* 

^ / **m>* ° '* 



> ■>. \V <*• £ 



O'- s ' • ” > * “ K 0 ’ V N% * ' " " ' 

/V= «* v .'*«&*'. V .* 

<£ ■’,PE- - 

^ \v z V' ^nffv^y _ 3k 

^ *> A ^ v ^ o x * c> ^ 

*> •> ^^/.eSWr *• -b <?’ * 




« 1 A .s’ 



^ ' 

y v 

, '> n '"/ ( ''”'X ,j "°w*»' 

%%* ^ <** * V 

> « X/'*r? x \v * c$ <3 > 

<r^ v , at' * 



\ \ ^ * , * *> „ * -V 






HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


A NOVEL 


BY 

JOHN ESTEN COOKE, 


AUTHOR OF “SURRY OF EAGLE’S NEST,” “ MOHUN,” 
“ FAIRFAX,” “ HILT TO HILT,” ETC. 





V 


NEW YORK: 

G. W. Dillingham Co Publishers , 


MDCCCCI. 




5 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1873, by 
J. B. LIPPINCOTT & CO., 

In the Office of the Librarian of Congress at Washington, D. C. 


Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1901, by 
R. POWELL PAGE, Administrator, Estate of JOHN ESTEN COOKE, 
In the office of the Librarian of Congress, at Washington, D. C. 

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. 


Her Majesty the Queen. 


CONTENTS, 


BOOK I. 

CHAPTER TAGS 

I. — Cecil Court 5 

II. — My Adventure at Wendover... n 

III. — The Lady of Wendover again 14 

IV. — How Harry had come to drive a Coach all the Way to 

Scotland 19 

V. — I enter the Queen’s Guards 24 

VI. — Horses for France 27 

VII. — What took place by Moonlight in Oatlands Park 31 

VIII. — What a Pie contained 36 

IX. — I go to Rosemary Lane, and meet with an Ugly Ad- 
venture 39 

X. — A Terrible Personage 44 

XI. — The Cavalier in Purple Velvet 50 

XII. — The Little Queen S3 

XIII. — My Traveling-Companion 57 

XIV. — I make the Acquaintance of Mr. Cromwell 62 

XV. — A Combat by Moonlight 65 

XVI. — Sir Theodore Mayheme 70 

XVII. — I visit a Gentleman afterwards famous throughout the 

World 72 

XVIII. — A Moonlight Colloquy, and what followed it 78 

XIX. — The Sting of an Insect 83 

XX. — Good-by, Sweet-heart ! 90 

XXI. — How I was compelled for a Time to take no further 

Part in Public Affairs 95 

XXII. — The Portrait of Strafford 100 

XXIII. — I return to Cecil Court 105 

(iii) 


IV 


CONTENTS. 


BOOK II. 

CHAPTER PAGB 

I. — Dreams at Cecil Court 109 

II. — A Friend of the King 114 

III. — A Friend of the Parliament 117 

IV. — A Young Gentleman without Opinions of any Con- 

sequence 122 

V. — I am conducted before Prince Rupert 128 

VI. — Swords and Plumes at Cecil Court 135 

VII. — Brothers 141 

VIII. — I visit the Hague 144 

IX. — A Good Wife 147 

X. — My Fate 151 


BOOK III. 

I. — The Adventures of a Queen 155 

II. — A Female General 160 

III. — Harry and 1 167 

W. — I go with Lord Falkland to his House of Great Tew 173 

V. — The Last Greeting 178 

VI. — Chalgrove 181 

VII. — Newbury 188 

VIII. — I meet with an Old Acquaintance in Disguise 194 

IX. — Angel and Pigmy 199 


BOOK IV. 

I. — Bedford House in Exeter 204 

II. — I am sent with a Flag to Lord Essex. 21 1 

III. — Lord Essex . 213 

IV. — The Fate of a Queen 218 

V. — The Courage of a Woman 227 

VI. — My Promise 232 

VII. — The Last Hope of the King and of the Cecils 237 


CONTENTS. 


V 


CHAPTER PAGE 

VIII. — Back to Cecil Court 242 

IX. — I go to Charlecote and meet with an Adventure 244 

X. — The Flight from Charlecote 249 

XI. — On the Highway 256 

XII. — My Parting with Frances Villiers 259 


BOOK V. 

• 

I. — On the Bridge near Holmby House 262 

II. — Tailor turned Soldier 265 

III. — The Escape from Hampton Court 268 

IV. — Carisbrooke Castle 275 

V. — Eikon Basilike 278 

VI. — The Plan of Escape 281 

VII. — The Hour at Last 285 

VIII. — The Scene at Westminster Hall 290 

IX. — The Hammering 298 

X.— The Walk to Whitehall 303 

XI. — The Execution 308 

XII. — So went the King white to his Grave 312 

XIII. — An Old Cavalier of the King 315 

XIV. — The House beside the Highway 319 

XV. — Home Again 322 

XVI. — A Friend in Need, and Indeed 323 

XVII.— Virginia 328 






























































































































































































































































































































































































































HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN, 


BOOK I. 


I. 


CECIL COURT. 

My life has been so restless and adventurous that I 
go back with delight to my early years, spent at the 
old home of my family in Warwickshire, England. 

Cecil Court was a peaceful, charming old place, on 
the banks of the Avon, low-pitched, built of brick, 
with Elizabethan windows, a flower-decorated terrace, 
and approached by a broad avenue overshadowed by 
lofty elms. You entered a large hall running from front 
to rear, with a winding staircase on the right, the balus- 
trade, like the wainscoting, of heavy oak, carved and 
darkened by age. On the right was the sitting-room, 
with polished oak floor, tall-backed chairs, a wide fire- 
place with huge old andirons, a tall mantelpiece, and 
a dozen portraits on the walls. This apartment was, 
properly speaking, the dining-room, the drawing-rooms 
occupying tbe opposite wing, but in progress of time 
it had come to be used as the sitting-room, and our old 
neighbors invariably went thither unannounced to find 
my father. On the second floor were the chambers, 

( 7 ) 


a 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


which were numerous and furnished in the style of the 
reign of Queen Elizabeth. 

The family estate was by no means large, consisting 
indeed of but a few hundreds of acres, cultivated by 
two or three old tenants, grown gray-headed on the 
place. My father had never given his assent, however, 
to any diminution of the size of the old Cecil Court 
park, — an extensive chase of the freshest and greenest 
turf, dotted with century oaks, beneath which the cattle 
grazed undisturbed, and a few deer wandered, tame 
and confiding. Seen from .a distance, through the 
waving foliage of its great trees, Cecil Court was a 
peaceful and attractive picture. On the right, beyond 
a green hillock, gleamed the still waters of a pond and 
the dancing waves of a little stream. The sylvan 
scene was calm and friendly, and you would have said 
that life here was as tranquil and serene as the slow 
movement of the white clouds floating over the blue 
sky. 

Our household was small, consisting only of my 
father, my elder brother Harry, my younger sister 
Cicely, an old housekeeper, and a few old servants, 
whose heads had turned white in the service of the 
family, and who performed their duties with the regu- 
larity and more than the silence of machines. I often 
think now that a large part of the happiness of human 
beings depends upon the possession of such silent old 
household attendants. Never a word was uttered nor 
an order given/ Comfort, kindness, and silence reigned, 
and the exact wine my father wished was placed at his 
elbow, without a word addressed to the old major- 
domo waiting, calm and silent, behind his chair. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


9 


Do not fancy from this picture, worthy reader, that 
the Cecils were very well-to-do in the world. We 
had barely enough ; and although the country-people 
called my father “ the Squire,” and took off their hats 
to him with the profoundest deference, that was more 
a tribute to his kindly nature, which made all love him, 
than to his possessions. The estate had once been 
very large, but had dwindled away. Still, we had 
enough to live upon as gentlefolks, and my father’s 
fondness for reading and study caused him to forget 
the narrowness of his fortunes. He was a very tall 
and distinguished -looking person, wfth long gray hair, 
which he powdered and tied with a ribbon, a broad 
and lofty forehead, blue eyes full of candor and sim- 
plicity, and lips wearing habitually a smile of great 
sweetness. His dress was plain, but about his whole 
appearance there was an air of grace and distinction 
which never changed. His manner was the same to a 
peer of the realm and to a plowman, — his bow to the 
last as courteous as to the first. In a word, good 
reader, my father was a gentleman of extreme pride, 
simplicity, and naturalness, — thought himself, I dare 
say, as good as the peer, and perhaps in many things 
no better than the plowman. 

I do not remember my dear mother, who died in my 
infancy, taking away with her, people said, much of 
the sunshine of my father’s life, — for to the last they 
were more like young lovers than old married people. 
For her, my father kept his courtliest bows and his 
sweetest smiles. The great aim of his life seemed to 
be to make her happy ; and when she died, the old 
neighbors said that he went about as though he had 


10 HER MAJESTY THE QUEEH. 

lost something without which he could not live. This, 
however, was before my time, and when I first remem- 
ber him my father had regained his calmness, at least. 
His smile was full of sadness, but of great sweetness 
too, as I have said. Once I found him in tears, gazing 
at a withered flower my dear mother had given him 
upon their wedding-day ; but such evidences of emo- 
tion were infrequent. I recall him now, most clearly, 
sitting in his great arm-chair, reading a folio contain- 
ing the dramas of his friend and neighbor Mr. Shak- 
speare, whom he knew in his own younger days, and 
esteemed highly. 

A few words will introduce my brother Harry and 
my sister Cicely. Harry was a year or two my senior, 
a brave, handsome youth, full of sunshine and gayety, 
who had hunted every fox in the county from his boy- 
hood, and ended by entering that select company of 
young gentlemen, the Queen’s Guardsmen, at Hamp- 
ton Court. In doing so, he had consulted both his own 
wishes and his love for me. The revenues of Cecil 
Court were insufficient to send us both to Oxford, and, 
as I was destined for the law, Harry declared that I 
should go, he becoming a guardsman. I accordingly 
went to Oxford, and Harry to London, — I became a 
fellow-commoner of Baliol College, and he a gay 
young gallant. When this history opens, I had just 
returned to Cecil Court, and Harry was in the Guards. 

Of Cicely, my little sister, I shall say nothing at 
this time, and scarce more of that important person- 
age, the writer of these memoirs. The said gentle- 
man, Edmund Cecil by name, was a country youth 
who fancied himself a great philosopher; liberal in 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


II 


politics, but a monarchist for all that, and by no means 
pleased with the near prospect of becoming a denizen 
of the Inns of Court at London. It would have 
pleased him far better to have remained at Cecil Court 
in idleness, — reading, dreaming, wandering about the 
old park, and shaping cloud-castles for his own enter- 
tainment. He was, in truth, a most useless and in- 
capable person, content to let the current waft him, 
without using his oars, and asking only silence and 
liberty to peruse the pages of Mr. William Shakspeare, 
for whom he had inherited his father’s fondness. 

Such a life was impossible, however ; and one day 
my father informed me that he had made every arrange- 
ment for my entrance at the Inns of Court. My lodg- 
ings had been engaged in Essex Court, with young 
Master John Evelyn, and nothing now prevented me 
from commencing the study of my future profession. 

“ ’Tis the best career I can think of for my boy,” 
my father said, with his sweet smile, now filled with 
tenderness. “Cecil Court goes to Harry, but per- 
chance you will be Chief Justice some day, my son. 
So take the old sword yonder, — every gentleman 
should wear a sword, — the best horse in the stable, and 
Dick the hostler will ride with you to London.” 

My heart sank at the very phrase “Inns of Court,” 
but there was some consolation in that magical word 
“ London.” 

“ I will be ready at daylight, sir,” I said, taking my 
father’s hand and kissing it. 

“That is well, my boy; and I need give you few 
counsels. Be a good man, my dear; be honest and 
true. Study hard ; for remember ’tis the educated brain 


12 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


that rules the world. Avoid as far as possible the 
political commotions just beginning; for neither on 
the king’s side nor the parliament’s is the full right. 
The Cecils must be of the royal party, if the issue 
comes; but his majesty construes his prerogative far 
too liberally for my views. With him you must side 
nevertheless, if honor will let you, and you side with 
either. But remember that the Cecil honor is above 
and before all, — even that of the king, who is, after 
all, but the first gentleman of his kingdom.” 

My father stopped, and laid his hand upon my 
head. 

“ God bless my boy !” he said, in a faltering voice; 
and, turning away, he went out of the room, leaving me 
in tears. 

At daylight I set out for London. The whole house- 
hold had assembled to bid me good-by, and the old 
servants uttered many earnest blessings, for in their 
eyes I was yet but a child. Then my father pressed 
my hand closely, Cicely put her arms around my neck 
and kissed me, her face wet with tears, I mounted, 
waved my hand, and, followed by joyous Dick the 
hostler, went forth into the future. 

My father stood on the old porch until I was out of 
sight. Reaching an eminence distant half a mile from 
the hall, it again appeared, and my dear father was 
standing there still. My heart went back to him, and 
to all the familiar localities I was bidding farewell to. 
With something strange in my throat which seemed 
about to choke me, I gazed long from the hill on the 
fields and forests of my childhood ; then, turning my 
horse’s head, I set forward at a gallop, — Dick the 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN, ^ 

hostler made his best effort to keep up with me, — and 
Cecil Court disappeared from my eyes. 

I was afloat upon the surge of that ocean which is 
called the great world. 


II. 

MY ADVENTURE AT WENDOVER. 

As though to indicate the adventurous character of 
the career I was to run, a singular incident befell me 
on this the first day of my journey. 

But first I will attempt, reader, to present you with 
an outline of myself as I thus went forth from the 
family nest, — a callow fledgeling, scarce winged as yet, 
— gazing around me eagerly on the fertile lands, on 
the old minsters and castles, and the fields so soon to 
be trampled. 

The Edmund Cecil who thus rode to seek his for- 
tune, was a youth of twenty-three, slight, active, with 
brown eyes, and hair of the same color ; and he wore 
a dark cloth riding-habit, chamois boots, a hat with a 
black feather, and the old family sword clattering 
against his hunting-spurs. A downy mustache and 
royale, after the fashion of the time, set off the face, — 
a face in which, I think, hope and happiness must have 
shone; for the youth found something charming in the 
idea of London, whither he was going, and bestrode 
with delight his favorite hunter from the Cecil Court 
stables. There were not many there now ; the Cecils 
were poor ; but what was poverty to the young knight- 
2 


14 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


errant? Youth was stronger, — youth, the source of 
nearly every joy ; to return to which to-day, when my 
pulse rarely throbs, I would give all the experience 
and wisdom I have since acquired ! Experience ? 
Wisdom ? The tints of autumn are charming, and the 
sunset is of solemn beauty ; but spring is sweeter than 
autumn, the dawn fresher than evening ! My old age 
is happy, and I am content with it. But oh for the 
curls and roses, the eye and pulse, of twenty ! 

I passed Aylesbury, in Buckinghamshire, and slept at 
the Cat and Bagpipes , an inn in the small town of Wen- 
dover. I had just descended at sunrise, and was about 
to resume my journey, when a traveling-carriage, com- 
ing from the north and drawn by four spirited horses, 
rattled up to the door, and through the window I 
caught sight of an exquisite face. It was that of a 
young lady apparently about twenty, her counte- 
nance half concealed by a cloak and hood. I could 
still discern its outlines, however ; and its rare beauty 
was unmistakable. The cheeks were rosy, the eyes 
large and earnest, the lips mild and full of a charming 
innocence and sweetness. Such was the occupant of 
the coach, — a woman, evidently her attendant, being 
the sole other person visible. 

The coach stopped, and the driver leaped down. 

“ Fresh horses for London !” he cried to the portly 
landlord, who had hastened out. 

At the sound of that voice I started, and my whole 
attention was now concentrated upon the speaker. He 
was a mere coachman, at least in costume, — huge over- 
all, plain beaver, a handkerchief bundled around his 
throat, and heavy top-boots. I went closer, and looked 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN, 


T S 


under the low hat. The coachman was my brother 
Harry, of the Queen’s Guardsmen ! 

Our eyes met, and he turned quickly, endeavoring 
to conceal his face. I began to laugh, and called out, — 

“ Don’t you know me, Harry?” 

Thereat the supposed coachman turned, and whis- 
pered, — 

“ ’Ware hawks, Ned ! — on secret service for her 
majesty ! ’ ’ 

He said no more, but went to the coach and seemed 
to propose that the young lady should breakfast therein ; 
for, in compliance with a rapid order, food was brought, 
and she ate hastily. 

Meanwhile fresh horses were rapidly attached ; 
the postilion mounted ; Harry cracked his whip with 
the air of a born Jehu, and the carriage set off, the, 
horses going at a gallop. 

Harry had carefully avoided a private interview. He 
had simply whispered, in passing me, — 

“ I will see you in London.” 

Ten minutes afterwards, the carriage had disappeared 
over the crest of a hill, leaving me standing in the 
middle of the street gazing after it. 

I hastened to follow ; but it was half an hour before 
I got to saddle. I then rode on rapidly, but did not 
catch up with the carriage. It had disappeared like 
a dream, — a visionary equipage drawn by phantom 
horses. 


1 6 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


III. 

THE LADY OF WENDOVER AGAIN. 

London was visible, as I approached, from a great 
distance, with its canopy of smoke; and I cantered 
gayly into the famous city, making my way, after in- 
quiries of wayfarers, towards Essex Court, where my 
lodgings had been engaged. 

In front of the palace of Whitehall, with which I 
was familiar from one other visit in my boyhood to 
London, a very great crowd had assembled. So dense 
was the mass of human beings that I pushed my horse 
through it with difficulty, followed by Dick the hostler ; 
and the appearance of this crowd was singular. It con- 
- sisted, apparently, of apprentices of the various trades 
in the City, their hair cut extremely short; and almost 
all carried in their hands staves upon which were plac- 
ards bearing the word “ Liberty. ” The great mass of 
human beings uttered vociferous cries, and kept their 
eyes fixed upon the palace, in front of which I now 
saw a long row of carriages drawn up, with the royal 
arms upon the panels. 

“ What is the cause of this excitement, sir?” I said 
to a burly individual standing near me. 

“The tyrant is about to fly with his family, and we 
are come to stop him,” \yas the stern reply. 

“The tyrant, sir?” I said. 

“ Others call him Charles the First of England.” 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


17 


“ Good heavens, sir !” I exclaimed, “ ’tis not possi- 
ble that violence is meant by his majesty’s faithful 
subjects to his person and his family !” 

My interlocutor looked fixedly at me, and, tightening 
the grasp on his stick, was apparently about to take 
the offensive, when a great wave bore him ten feet from 
me. A hand caught my bridle, and my horse was 
thrown on his haunches. A moment afterwards, hoof- 
strokes were heard : a detachment of the king’s body- 
guard pushed their horses through the crowd, the 
procession of coaches filled with ladies followed, and 
another detachment brought up the rear. 

I had been swept away, still on horseback, by the 
great wave, and was looking at the carriages, when I 
recognized in one of them the face of the young lady 
whom I had encountered at Wendover. She was clad 
in velvet and laces now, and was even more beautiful. 
I was gazing at the calm, proud face, conscious of little 
save her very great loveliness, when a man rushed up 
to the coach, — it was my burly friend with the staff,— 
thrust the “Liberty” placard into the young lady’s 
face, and uttered some words apparently of insult ; for 
the calm face quickly flushed. This proceeding enraged 
me ; and, leaping to the ground, I grasped the person 
guilty of this indignity by one of his ears, dragging 
him violently back. He uttered a yell of anger at this 
unceremonious assault, turned, and caught me by the 
throat; and, although I had drawn and directed my 
sword’s point towards his breast, I was about to be 
dragged down and trampled under foot by the crowcj, 
when a voice near me cried, — 

“ Hold hard, Ned ! We are coming,” 

3 * 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


18 


It was the voice of Harry, who rode at the head of 
the detachment of horse in rear. 

“You will please allow me to pass, good people,” 
he said, in his loud, hearty voice. “I don’t want to 
ride against anybody; and, as this gentleman is my 
brother ’ ’ 

He pushed at my big opponent, struck him with his 
horse’s chest, and drew me, hot and furious, towards him. 

“ ’Ware hawks, Ned !” he said, laughing. “ There’s 
Dick brandishing his arms and holding your horse. 
Mount, and fall in with the Guards ! or I think these 
worthies will eat you up !” 

Dick had pushed through and reached my side, still 
clinging to my horse’s bridle. I threw myself into the 
saddle, and took my place in the line, — Dick imitating 
me. No further violence was offered any one ; and an 
hour afterwards the procession of coaches, containing, 
as I now ascertained, the queen, the royal family, and 
maids of honor, issued from London. 

Then I saw rising before me the imposing walls of 
Hampton Court; the procession passed through the 
park ; the Guards were drawn up in a double line, and 
between these walls of silk, plumes, and steel, the queen 
and the rest entered the palace. 

I was looking with interest and admiration upon the 
bevy of beautiful young ladies as they passed in and 
disappeared, when the voice of Harry beside me said, — 

“What was the trouble about yonder, Ned?” 

I told him all. 

“ Oho ! Well, that’s like a Cecil ! And it was the 
fair Miss Frances Yilliers whose knight you became,” 

“ Is her name Frances Yilliers?” 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. ig 

“ Yes ; her Majesty’s favorite maid of honor/ * 

“Well, I think I did right, Harry ” 

“ You won the right to enter the guards of her 
majesty; and I’ll apply for your appointment before 
I sleep, Ned. Come on ! follow me to the guard- 
room. ’ ’ 


IV. 


HOW HARRY HAD COME TO DRIVE A COACH ALL THE 
WAY TO SCOTLAND. 

The guard-room at Hampton Court was an apart- 
ment of large extent, with tables against the wall be- 
neath the tall windows, and around these tables a 
number of the gay young gallants of the Guards were 
already engaged at dice, — laughing, jesting, and ex- 
changing comments on the events of the morning. 

Harry had just made me acquainted with some of 
his friends, — and I could see at a glance that he was a 
favorite with the mercurial young gentlemen of the 
Guards, — when an usher entered, glided to him, and 
spoke in a low tone. 

“Wait here, Ned,” he said. “Iam sent for.” And 
taking his gray beaver, with its floating plume, he 
followed the usher. 

He was absent for a quarter of an hour, during which 
time the guard-room resounded with jests, laughter, the 
rattle of dice, and the clatter of flagons on the tables. 
I was gazing at this animated scene, when Harry touched 


20 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


me on the shoulder, made a sign to me to follow him, 
and, leading the way, conducted me through a long 
corridor to the left wing of the palace. 

“You are about to enjoy the satisfaction of being 
thanked for your chivalric gallantry, Ned, by the 
prettiest pair of lips at the court of England,” said 
my brother, laughing. “ Come on ! Be firm, but 
determined; modest, but devoted !” 

And, still with his gay laugh, Harry opened a door, 
beyond which, in a small but richly-decorated apart- 
ment, I saw seated the young lady of the inn at 
Wendover. 

“ I have the honor of presenting my brother Edmund, 
Miss Villiers,” Harry said, bowing low, with his plume 
trailing on the floor. “ He begs to assure you of his 
very profound respect. * * And Harry discreetly fell back. 

The young lady inclined her head graciously, in re- 
sponse to my low bow, and I observed in her bearing 
the same air of calmness and repose. Nothing seemed 
to shake this singular serenity. 4 

“I fear you make quite a court ceremony of this 
interview with a simple maid of honor, Mr. Cecil,” 
she said to Harry; and it is impossible to conceive 
anything sweeter and calmer than the accents of her 
voice. Raising her great, limpid eyes to my face, she 
added, “ Mr. Cecil has informed me that it was your- 
self to whom I was indebted for assistance to-day, sir ; 
and I thank you sincerely.” 

The beautiful girl abashed me. I could only bow 
low again, when Harry’s gay voice interposed. 

“ Ned is overcome, Miss Villiers. In a word, accept 
the devotion of the Cecil family at large ; and should 


her Majesty the queeh. 


2 1 


you kindly take us under your ladyship’s protection, 
secure my brother’s appointment to a place in the 
Guards.” 

I could not protest that I was about to become 
one of the long-robe fraternity, — to be frank, I was 
quite ashamed of the fact, — and, with a throb of satis- 
faction, remained silent. 

“Mr. Cecil wishes an appointment?” said Miss 
Villiers. “ I am sure he may secure that.” 

“He is discreet as well as brave,” Harry said, 
quietly. “ He saw and recognized me at Wendover.” 

The young lady turned her head quickly, and a 
slight color came to her face. 

“Iam sorry, sir,” she said, somewhat stiffly. “ I had 
hoped ” 

“That no one save myself and her majesty was 
informed of that escapade ? But think, Miss Villiers, I 
alone was to blame.” 

He turned to me, and added, “This is the best 
time and place to inform you frankly, Ned, of the 
meaning of that encounter. It is due to Miss Vil- 
liers, who has not ceased to cherish sentiments of 
displeasure towards me. Know, then, that Miss 
Villiers is confidential maid of honor to her majesty, 
and that her devotion knows no bounds. Well, her 
majesty desired, recently, to send an oral message to 
his majesty, who is in Scotland. The times are troubled 
and dangerous ; written communications are liable to 
be intercepted : in a word, Miss Villiers offered to go 
to Scotland and convey the message in person. Am I 
right, Miss Villiers? and have I your permission to 
proceed?” 


•ii 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


“ Yes, sir,” returned the young lady, with the slight 
color still in her cheeks. “I even desire that Mr. 
Cecil shall be informed of the meaning of that singular 
adventure.” 

“I see that your displeasure continues, madam,” 
said Harry; “but I can only submit. Pardon me, I 
pray you, for still speaking of you in your presence as 
though you were absent.” 

He bowed, and went on, addressing himself to me. 

“Her majesty accepted the offer of Miss Villiers, 
and it was arranged that she should travel with a lady’s 
maid only, but the coach was to be driven by an old 
and trusted servitor. When it left London it was I, 
however, who drove, and for a simple reason. A 
young lady would necessarily be exposed, traveling 
thus alone, to peril ; so I locked up the old servitor, 
mounted the seat of the coach, and it was only when 
it had proceeded a day’s journey, nearly, that Miss 
Villiers perceived the ruse. I need not say that she 
was very angry, and perhaps justly angry. But the 
die was cast ; the message was pressing. The coach 
continued its way, and beyond Doncaster the advantage 
of being driven by an able-bodied young man in place 
of an infirm old servitor became apparent, did it not, 
madam?” 

And, with lurking enjoyment of his triumph in his 
handsome eyes, Harry turned to the young lady. 

“ Continue, sir,” she said. 

“Footpads, Ned!” Harry said, laughing. “The 
coach was attacked. The coachman heroically dis- 
charged his pistols and unhorsed one of the knights 
of the road ; the rest fled. The coach imitated them, 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEH. 


2 3 


and we reached Scotland, to return speedily over the 
same ground London-ward. In traveling, no time was 
lost. The coach was driven on day and night, as you 
may understand from the fact that we reached Wen- 
dover as you were coming down to breakfast. Peste / 
as her majesty’s French maids say, I have not yet 
caught up with my lost sleep. I nod in the saddle, 
and snore while rattling the dice ! To conclude, Miss 
Villiers most generously made my peace with her 
majesty. I am becoming a court favorite, they tell me ; 
and after the assault of the footpads I regained, and 
still enjoy, the luxury of a good conscience and an 
exalted opinion of myself.” 

It was impossible to resist Harry’s gayety. A smile 
came to Miss Villiers’s lips, and she said, — 

“ Mr. Cecil was born to be an advocate in the courts 
of law. He will end by forcing me to thank him for 
locking up the queen’s servitor.” 

“No, madam,” said Harry, bowing low, and speak- 
ing with an earnestness in strong contrast to his former 
levity ; “I shall be content if you pardon a very auda- 
cious escapade ’ ’ 

As he uttered the words, an usher summoned Miss 
Villiers to attend the queen. She rose, and for the 
first time I observed the queenly outline of her person. 
There was something regal in her ; a slight bend in her 
neck gave her appearance an indescribable grace. She 
smiled faintly, inclined her head, and, gliding rather 
than walking, disappeared. 

“By heavens, she’s a queen!” exclaimed Harry. 
“Come, Ned, and rest easy; from this moment you 
are as good as one of her majesty’s Guards. My pockets 


24 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEH. 


are full of gold ; I make you a present of your uni- 
form ! Long live her majesty — and her maids of 
honor 1” 


V. 

I ENTER THE QUEEN’S GUARDS. 

I shared Harry’s bed that night, and was waked by 
the trumpet sounding reveille. 

The Guardsmen paraded in the court, — stiff, motion- 
less, sitting their horses in line, and answering gruffly 
to their names as the roll was called. The gay gallants 
of the guard-room were turned to wooden figures; 
but at the order to return to quarters they again broke 
forth into jests and laughter. 

As Harry came in, his rapier rattling against his 
boots, I saw that he held a paper in his hand. 

“ Here is what one of the queen’s ushers has just 
brought, Ned,” he said. 

I looked at the paper ; it was my appointment to a 
place in the queen’s Guards. 

“You see Miss Villiers stands by her friends, Ned,” 
said Harry. “Come and don one of my old uniforms. 
From this moment you are a Guardsman !” 

He laughed, and put his arm round my neck. Of 
all the faces I ever saw, Harry’s came nearest sunshine 
when he thus laughed. 

The day passed in a round of excitement. I did not 
reflect upon the scant respect paid my father in thus 


tl£R MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


cavalierly turning my back on the profession for which 
he had destined me. Had the eyes of Frances Villiers 
already worked their magic on me ? I know not ; but 
I hailed the change in my destiny with delight. Let 
me add here, as I shall pass soon to stirring events, 
that my dear father manifested no displeasure at the 
unceremonious step thus taken, but sent me his full ap- 
proval ; and I had no sooner received my appointment 
then I set about my arrangements. These were speedily 
made. The tailor of the Guardsmen, in Rosemary Lane, 
near the Tower, came and took my measure for my 
uniform, — in the mean while I donned an old one of 
Harry’s; — Dick the hostler declared his strong wish 
to remain and attend to my horses, and so behold me 
suddenly a full-fledged guardsman of the queen ! 

I was to commence my duties more speedily than I 
supposed. I had just entered the guard-room, about 
noon, when Harry came in, and I could see that he was 
angry. 

“ What is the matter?” I said. 

He drew my arm through his own, and dragged me 
rather than led me out. 

“The matter is insolence and cruelty, Ned!” he 
said, with a sort of growl peculiar to him when any- 
thing moved him. “ The crop-eared knaves in parlia- 
ment have insulted her majesty !” 

“ Insulted?” 

“Judge! Here comes to-day a messenger with a 
paper from that rascal Pym and the rest, that her maj- 
esty ‘ must surrender her young family into their hands 
during the absence of the king, lest she should take an 
opportunity of making papists of them.’ ” 

B 3 


26 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEH. 


“ And her majesty has replied?” 

“That her sons were under tuition of their governors, 
who were not papists: she obeyed the will of her 
husband that they should not be brought up in her re- 
ligion. And this is not all !” 

“What more, Harry?” 

“Secret information has just arrived that a parlia- 
mentary order has been sent to a magistrate near Oat- 
lands, where the royal family now are, to be ready 
with a part of the militia in the park of the palace to- 
night, — where he would be joined by a body of cav- 
alry, — and await further orders.” 

“They mean to seize on the royal family !” 

Harry burst out into such oaths as I will not record. 

“At their peril!” he said. “I say no more now, 
but ” 

The trumpet was heard without, sounding “Boots 
and Saddles,” and the palace was in commotion. Harry 
was hastening out, when an usher came in, looking 
rapidly around. 

“I am ordered to summon the first two gentlemen 
of the Guards I meet, to her majesty’s presence,” he 
said. 

“ Come on, Ned !” 

Harry was already rushing after the usher. I followed. 
We passed along a great corridor, through a magnifi- 
cent suite of apartments, then into an antechamber, 
where, at a sign from the usher, Harry paused, while 
we were being announced. 

“ Let them come in !” exclaimed a voice in a decided 
French accent. 

A moment afterwards I had followed my brother 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEErf. 


*1 


into a large apartment richly furnished and half filled 
with maids of honor, among whom stood a lady clad 
in black, with a pallid face and piercing eyes. This 
lady, I heard afterwards, was the secret enemy of her 
majesty, Lady Carlisle. 

In one corner, near a prie-dieu , stood a father con- 
fessor in black robes. On the carpet gamboled a small 
black dog, the famous Mitte, so intimately associated 
with her majesty’s wanderings and perils. 

Lastly, at a table, where she wrote rapidly, sat the 
queen. 


VI. 

HORSES FOR FRANCE. 

Her majesty Queen Henrietta Maria — or “Mary,” 
as King Charles and his followers always called her — 
seemed to labor under great emotion. 

She was a very beautiful person of about thirty, 
of an exquisite clear brunette complexion, with glossy 
brown hair, and large black eyes which sparkled like 
stars. It was impossible not to admire her extreme 
delicacy of features and the noble and imposing air 
of her whole person. I am not skillful in costume, and 
rarely recall what a human being wears, but I remember 
the rich brocade the queen wore that day, the full lace 
ruffles, the little cape, called a berthe , I think, and the 
bodice finished around the bosom and at the waist 
with a purple band. A string of pearls confined her 


28 


HER MAJESTY THE QVEEH. 


magnificent brown hair ; on her bosom lay a cross sus- 
pended from a necklace : it was in this very costume, 
I think, that she was drawn by the great painter Van- 
dyke, and inspired in Mr. Edmund Waller, the poet, 
the fine lines, — 

“ Beauty hath crown’d you, and you must have been 
The whole world’s mistress, other than a queen !” 

When I first saw “ the whole world’s mistress,” on that 
autumn day at Hampton Court, she was in a rage; 
the fine eyes flashed, and the clear brunette face was 
crimson with anger. 

“The messengers!” she said, without looking up, 
and continuing to write rapidly. 

The usher respectfully approached and uttered a few 
words. The queen raised her head, and one of her 
slender and beautiful hands went rapidly and nervously 
to the cross upon her bosom. She had opened her 
lips to speak, when a second usher entered and 
asked an audience for some one whose name I did not 
hear. 

“The magistrate! the very one! Admit him!” 
came from the queen, quickly. 

The usher hastened out, and soon returned with a 
portly, red-faced justice, who bowed low. 

“ I crave permission to lay this order before your 
majesty,” said the justice. “ It is from the parliament, 
and directs me to summon the militia and patrol Oat- 
lands Park.” 

“ Obey your order, sir !” exclaimed the queen. 

“I must disobey your majesty. Nothing will ever 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


29 

induce me to obey any order other than her own or 
the king's.” 

The queen rose with a brilliant flash of her proud 
eyes. 

“ Thanks, sir ! thanks ! His majesty shall know of 
this. But return and do exactly what the parliament 
has dictated, and be tranquil. We shall further ex- 
plain this: at present return and obey your orders.” 

There was no room for reply. The magistrate left 
the apartment, and the queen resumed her seat and 
wrote a few more lines. 

“This to Lord Digby, in London,” she said, ex- 
tending a paper towards Harry, who bowed low as he 
received it. 

“ This to its address,” the queen added ; and as she 
held out the paper her eyes met my own. 

I thought I heard at the same moment a faint mur- 
mur from Miss Villiers, who stood near the queen. 

“ It is well; lose no time, Mr. Cecil.” 

I retired blushing with delight at this utterance of 
my name by the queen. She was so beautiful as she 
sat there with that ring of rose-buds, her maids of honor, 
around her, that the sternest Puritan, I think, would 
have flushed with pleasure as I did. 

Harry and myself left the court-yard at the same 
moment, at a gallop. 

“Huzza for Queen Mary!” he cried, as he disap- 
peared. 

The note to Lord Digby, as I afterwards ascertained, 
contained an urgent request that his lordship would 
muster his friends and proceed on that very night 
to Qatjands Park. The letter borne by myself was 


3 ° 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


addressed to a gentleman residing some miles from 
Hampton Court, who possessed a stud of horses 
famous for blood and speed, — the queen designing to 
make use of them in bearing off her children, if neces- 
sary, to France. 

I soon reached the old manor-house of the gentleman 
in question, — Colonel Edward Cooke, of the royal 
forces. Colonel Cooke was a tall and stately old 
cavalier, with piercing eyes, a stern expression, but 
slightly ameliorated by the ghost of a smile, and the 
bearing of a thorough soldier. 

“ Say to her majesty, sir,” he said, with a bow, as 
he read the note in his great hall, “ that all I possess 
is at her command, — including my heart and sword, — 
both by day and by night.” 

With this reply, which I saw, from the sudden flash 
of the eye, came from the speaker’s heart, I returned 
to Hampton Court ; and the response of Colonel Cooke 
was conveyed to her majesty by Miss Frances Villiers, 
who was installed in the antechamber as a sort of 
adjutant-general. 

“Her majesty bids me thank you, Mr. Cecil,” the 
young lady said, coming out again and gazing at me 
with her great calm eyes. “ 1 counsel you to sup now : 
the Guards will move in half an hour.” 

As she spoke, the trumpet sounded “To horse!” 
the Guards rapidly drew up in the court-yard ; and, with 
a decided gnawing in his stomach, Mr. Edmund Cecil 
took his place in the line. 

Every man was fully armed, and an expedition of 
§ome sort was evidently on the tapis. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


31 


VII. 

WHAT TOOK PLACE BY MOONLIGHT IN OATLANDS PARK. 

As night fell, an odd cavalcade left Hampton Court. 
It consisted of a number of coaches, containing her 
majesty and the ladies of her suite ; behind these the 
Guards; and behind the Guards a motley rout of 
ushers, footmen, serving-men of every description, and 
even scullions from the kitchens, — all, with scarce an 
exception, bearing arms of some sort. So quaint was 
this armament, indeed, that it was difficult to restrain 
one’s laughter. The serving-men carried cleavers and 
carving-knives, and the scullions had caught up the 
spits and other weapons more useful in peace than in 
war. Altogether, the spectacle was a comedy, whose 
fantastic humor still moves me, as it returns to my 
memory. 

What did it mean, everybody asked himself, and 
whither was her majesty going ? The reply was that 
she was “going to spend the evening in the park at 
Oatlands;” and doubtless it was her majesty’s desire 
that her household should go too, as she had ordered 
their attendance, with the singular direction that every 
one should be armed ! 

No one of this generation will ever look upon Oat- 
lands, — the ancient dower residence and favorite resort 
of the queens of England for so many reigns, — with 


3 2 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


its old walls, its moat and fosses, its shady park and 
secluded landscape. It was leveled to the ground 
during the civil wars, and is only a name now; but on 
that autumn evening of 1641 it was yet untouched. 
As the queen entered the vast park and drew near the 
ancient building, frowning from behind its moat and 
with the drawbridge up, the great oaks waved their 
variegated arms above the queer cavalcade, — their tops 
silvered by the first rays of the rising moon. 

Suddenly the trumpet of the Guards rang out ; and as 
the queen’s coach stopped before the drawbridge, the 
palace front became alive with faces. Then the draw- 
bridge was seen to descend, the coaches entered, and 
the Guards, followed by the motley rout, clattered over 
the bridge. 

The queen was assisted from her coach by a tall and 
bland-looking gentleman of about sixty, richly clad, — 
Lord Harry Jermyn, as I soon discovered, her grand 
equerry and confidential secretary. 

Lord Jermyn smiled, and uttered a few words. 

“It is well, my lord,” her majesty replied. “ Have 
my palfrey saddled, and be ready to attend me.” 

The broad portals of the palace then swallowed the 
bevy of fair ladies; the Guards, followed by their nonde- 
script allies, recrossed the drawbridge, and were drawn 
up in the park ; and, to return to myself, I remained 
for half an hour suffering the pangs of starvation. 

Then, in the half-gloom, horses’ hoofs were heard 
upon the drawbridge, a lady’s scarf glimmered in the 
moonlight, and the queen appeared, mounted upon her 
palfrey, attended by Lord Jermyn, who rode at her side. 

The queen rode straight to the officer commanding 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


33 

her Guards, and gave him an order. He immediately 
turned, and ordered, — 

“ Attention ! Form squads of three, passing off 
from the right, and patrol the park. If any suspicious 
characters are encountered, arrest them, and report 
with them here. March !” 

At the word, the Guards separated into squads, and 
scattered in every direction. I followed with two com- 
panions a by-way winding through the densest portion 
of the park ; and we were riding on, keeping a good 
lookout, when the trampling of hoofs was heard in 
front. I w2s in advance of my companions, and, draw- 
ing rein, ordered, “ Halt !” 

The tramp drew nearer, and in the moonlight I saw 
advancing a body of about one hundred horsemen. I 
repeated the order to halt, and drew my pistol, cocking 
it. The column halted, and a single horseman rode 
forward. 

“This is a patrol?” the horseman said, in a com- 
manding voice. 

“ Yes. What party is that ?” 

“Friends of the queen. Permit us to pass.” 

“ Impossible, sir. I do not know you,” I replied. 

“ Move aside !” was the response, in a haughty tone; 
and, as he spoke, the horseman advanced upon me. 

“ Halt, or you are dead !” I said, putting my pistol 
to his breast ; whereat he paused, in some astonishment. 

“I am Lord Digby, come hither by the queen’s 
order,” he said, gruffly. 

“ I do not know your lordship. You have, doubt- 
less, your order on your person ?” 

“ I have.” And, drawing his sword with one hand, 

B* 


34 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


he presented with the other the queen’s letter. A glance 
at it in the bright moonlight terminated every doubt. 

“Pass, my lord,” I said, bowing. “Your lordship 
will appreciate my course. Our orders are impera- 
tive to stop all persons.” 

“Your name, sir?” 

“ Edmund Cecil, of her majesty’s Guards, my lord.” 

His lordship simply saluted, and ordered, “For- 
ward !” as I rode into the wood with my companions. 
I had made an enemy of Lord Digby, it seemed ; but 
then I had carefully obeyed orders ; and, careless of 
the consequences, I continued to patrol the park with 
my two companions. 

Nothing suspicious met our eyes, and we were re- 
turning in the direction of the palace, when I saw, 
through a vista in the trees, a party of about twenty 
horsemen. We rode at once towards them ; and one 
of my companions demanded who they were. No 
reply was made ; and I rode in advance, repeating the 
question. The group of horsemen grew agitated, and 
moved to and fro. The movement unmasked one of 
the party, who carried a fat buck across the saddle in 
front of him. 

“You are poachers, assailing the king’s deer!” I 
cried. “ Halt, and give yourselves up !” 

A shot replied. It issued from a sort of blunderbuss 
in the hands of one of the party, and the bullet passed 
through the rim of my gray beaver. I fired in return, 
and drove my horse at the owner of the blunderbuss, 
reached his side, closed in with him, and recognized 
the burly young man who had insulted Miss Villiers on 
the way to Hampton Court. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


35 


I had clutched him by the throat, and had nearly 
dragged him from the saddle, when he struck me a 
heavy blow on the temple, which threw me to the 
ground. As I fell, I heard cries and the trample of 
hoofs ; the poachers fled ; and I saw around me a con- 
fused crowd, in the midst of which the bright moon- 
light fell upon the flashing eyes and enraged face of 
the queen. It was the lioness, ready to protect 
her young, — to contend in person, if necessary, with 
those bent on robbing her of her children. The 
beautiful face was superb in its wrath and defiance : 
it towered above me for a moment, and then I lost 
consciousness. 

I was lying on a couch in the palace when I regained 
my senses, and some one was bathing an ugly wound 
on my temple, which bled freely. As all traces of it, 
save a slight scar, have disappeared for thirty years or 
more, I will no-t weary the reader with a tedious ac- 
count of this particular “broken head.” One inci- 
dent remains unalterably in my memory, however. A 
beautiful face appeared for an instant at the door, and 
a low, sweet voice said, — 

“ Her majesty desires to know if Mr. Cecil’s hurt is 
dangerous.” 

The leech replied in the negative, and the face dis- 
appeared ; but a blessed influence remained with me. 
It was the voice of Frances Villiers which had uttered 
those low words, — the eyes of the beautiful girl which 
had sent their healing balm into my heart. I fell 
asleep soon afterwards, and dreamed of the face. 
From that moment I seldom lost sight of it, waking or 
sleeping: in a word, Frances Villiers began to be, what 


36 HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 

she very soon became, the sole object of my waking 
thoughts and my dreams. 

Such had been the events of the night in Oatlands 
Park. The lioness had mounted guard over her off- 
spring, defying her enemies ; and the long moonlight 
night passed undisturbed. 


VIII. 

WHAT A PIE CONTAINED. 

On the next morning I got up, buckled on my 
sword, and reported for duty. Harry came up and 
hugged me with ardor. 

“Here’s the hero of the encounter!” he cried, “the 
only human being everybody talks of- ’ ’ 

“Even her majesty,” said a grave and courtly voice 
behind me ; and, turning round, I saw Lord Digby. 

His lordship smiled with an air of great courtesy, and 
held out his hand. 

“ I have come to compliment your good soldiership, 
Mr. Cecil, in persistently halting me in the park last 
night,” he said. “You serve her majesty as she ought 
to be served, and I offer you my compliments, sir.” 

He bowed, and passed on, leaving me charmed at my 
sudden importance ! I seemed about to become some- 
body ! A lucky accident had raised me from obscu- 
rity, and I had even attracted the attention of her 
majesty, — who from that moment, as the reader will 


HER MAJESTY THE Q C/E EH. 


37 

perceive, remembered my name and honored me with 
her august regard. 

The court returned on the same evening to Hamp- 
ton Court; but before the cortege left Oatlands an 
incident of a very comic nature occurred, — one which 
made everybody laugh, and introduced an afterwards 
famous personage. 

I had just risen from the mess-table in the guard- 
room, where I had dined, when shouts of laughter from 
the great hall of the palace, where her majesty was also 
dining, attracted our attention. So loud and uncere- 
monious was this laughter that it drew us irresistibly 
towards the door. I hastened thither with the rest, 
glanced through the half-open door, and at first was 
almost unable to believe my eyesight. 

Her majesty sat at table with her maids of honor 
and attendant lords, and on the broad board, imme- 
diately in front of her plate, knelt a figure scarce two 
feet in height, — a manikin clad in full cavalier cos- 
tume, with top-boots, a minute sword at his side, with a 
plumed beaver in one hand, and the other hand upon 
his heart. 

Behind the dwarf was seen a huge pie, from which 
he had popped up, I soon discovered, at the moment 
when the pastry was cut. The queen had started back 
in utter amazement, but the dwarf had respectfully 
stepped towards her plate. There he had stopped, 
fallen upon one knee, and offered his respectful homage 
to her majesty, his hand resting devotedly upon his 
heart. 

As I reached the door and took in this odd spec- 
tacle, the shouts of laughter, defying all ceremony, 

4 


33 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


ceased. Her majesty turned towards Lord Jermyn, and 
said, in high good humor, — 

“We owe this surprise to you, my lord.” 

Lord Jermyn, with his bland and courtly smile, re- 
turned, — 

“Your majesty has concluded justly: the comedy 
comes after the melodrame. This little gentleman is 
one of your majesty’s most faithful subjects, and, know- 
ing your majesty’s taste for small people, I have planned 
this surprise.” 

The queen gazed with suppressed smiles at the dwarf, 
and then at Lord Jermyn. 

“ Thanks, my lord. We accept your gift, and take 
into our service — how call you him?” 

“Geoffrey Hudson, your majesty.” 

The queen extended her hand and drew the small 
sword of the manikin from its scabbard. With the 
same expression of struggling merriment, she then 
touched the dwarf’s shoulder with the weapon, and 
said, — 

“Rise, Sir Geoffrey Hudson: we take you into our 
service.” 

The manikin rose, and made a bow so profound 
that his head nearly touched the table. He was scarce 
two feet, as I have said, in height. 

“I thank your majesty,” he said, in a small, piping 
voice, “and will endeavor to serve her faithfully, how- 
ever small my stature.” 

A great laugh saluted the words, and the dwarf’s 
face flushed with anger, as he darted quick glances 
around him. 

“I recommend caution to gentlemen who would 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN . 39 

avoid Sir Geoffrey’s sword-thrust !” said Lord Jermyn, 
laughing. 

And Sir Geoffrey having leaped nimbly to the floor, 
where he walked up and down with great gravity and 
dignity, the banquet proceeded and terminated. 

When her majesty set out on her return to Hampton 
Court in the afternoon, I observed that the singular 
manikin had been furnished with a seat among the 
maids of honor in one of the coaches. The taste for 
such strange beings was at that epoch a passion almost : 
thus, the young ladies welcomed him warmly, instead 
of betraying any aversion ; and on the arrival of the 
queen at Hampton Court he was supplied with an 
apartment, and became formally a member of the royal 
household. 

He will reappear more than once in the progress of 
these memoirs; and an event which I shall relate in its 
place will show that, small as this strange human insect 
might be, his sting was mortal. 


IX. 

I GO TO ROSEMARY LANE, AND MEET WITH AN UGLY 
ADVENTURE. 

I was quite charmed with the new course which my 
life had now taken, and — thinking continuously of a 
young lady with great, calm eyes — grew sedulous of 
my personal appearance, and thought of my tailor. 
Going to try on my new uniform, I met with two 


4o 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


personages, the one fantastic, the other terrible; and 
of these I shall now speak. 

The name of the tailor was Joyce, and his shop was 
not far from the Tower. The gentlemen of the Guards 
had made him the fashion, by a species of caprice : 
he had sent to take my measure, on receiving a mes- 
sage from Harry ; and the emissary, when leaving me, 
requested with an air of importance that I would come 
to his master’s shop and try on the uniform “ during 
the process of its construction,” as nothing caused Mr. 
Joyce such pain as to supply gentlemen with ill-fitting 
garments. 

I hastened therefore, a day or two after the events 
just described, to visit the shop of Mr. Joyce, tailor, 
in Rosemary Lane. Leaving my horse in the Guards- 
men’s stables at Whitehall, I proceeded on foot ; and it 
was nearly evening when I at last reached Rosemary 
Lane, where a tall house toppling forward was pointed 
out to me as the shop of the tailor. 

He was at work as I entered, — a small, important- 
looking man, snipping viciously with a great pair of 
shears, — and greeted me with a nonchalant air, very 
unusual in a tradesman. Summoning an apprentice, he 
gave him an order, and, taking no further notice of me, 
strolled to the doorway. His hands were thrust beneath 
his coat-skirts, he carried his nose in the air, and only 
returned to the lower world, as ’twere, when his ap- 
prentice brought the half-finished coat. 

At a sign from him the apprentice approached me. 
I removed my coat, and tried on the new garment. 
He of the elevated nose then walked around me and 
surveyed me from all sides. 


HER MAyESTY THE QUEEtf. 


41 

“Take up in the waist,” he said to the apprentice. 
“More — more — not so much — more — there.” 

He then gazed at me from head to foot. 

“If you would hold up your head,” he said, — 
“ there. The coat will fit. Be good enough to write 
your name here.” 

He laid a large ledger before me. I saw there the 
names of Ireton and Cromwell. 

“So you are court and parliament tailor indiffer- 
ently?” I remarked, laughing. 

“Yes,” said Mr. Joyce, carelessly. “I make for 
Guardsmen and parliament people, the court and the 
Roundhead class, as the new term has it.” 

“And your own politics?” 

“Roundhead,” said Mr. Joyce, coolly. 

He then drew his hands from beneath his coat-skirts, 
informed me that my uniform would be sent me in three 
days, turned his back on me, and began snipping away 
again with his great shears. 

Such was my first sight of this personage, who was 
to become historic. I went out of his shop, half 
angry and half amused. But night began to fall, I was 
far from Whitehall, and the narrow and winding street 
— a sort of ditch between the tall, toppling houses on 
each side — was far from presenting a very cheerful ap- 
pearance. There was something decidedly cut-throatish 
about it ; and footpads then swarmed in London. A 
dim lamp beginning to twinkle at long intervals, from 
the ropes suspended across the street, only rendered 
darkness visible, to use Mr. Milton’s fine expression. 
So I determined to issue from this suspicious-looking 

4* 


42 


BER MAJESTY THE QUEEN". 


place as soon as possible, and set forward, walking 
rapidly towards the Tower. 

I had gone about two hundred paces, when a royster- 
ing party of apprentices apparently, armed with clubs, 
came towards me, and, as they passed, one of them 
jostled me rudely. As he did so, I looked at him ; 
our eyes met : it was the burly young man with whom 
I had grappled in Oatlands Park. 

“Fall on!” he shouted, suddenly. “I know this 
popinjay, and you know him ! He chased us in the 
park, — and he pulled my ear, the fiend seize him 1” 

As he uttered these words, the speaker rushed upon 
me, lifting his club to brain me. 

“Hark! tackle to him, Hulet !” cried his friends; 
“show him ” 

A hoarse growl from my enemy drowned the rest. 
He struck straight at me, and his associates closed in 
on me at the same moment, reminding me of a pack of 
hounds around a hare. 

I was not precisely a hare, however, and I had my 
rapier to meet the cudgel. With the determination to 
give a good account of one or two of my assailants 
at least, I lunged at the man called Hulet, and ran him 
through the fleshy part of his arm. The wound seemed 
to render him furious. He aimed a blow at my head 
with his cudgel; I parried; the blow fell on my rapier, 
and the treacherous iron snapped within a foot of the 
hilt. 

A loud cry followed ; my assailants closed in upon 
me, forced me to the wall, struck at mef, keeping 
out of reach of my sword-stump, — and I began to 
realize that in a few moments I would probably be 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEH. 


43 

knocked down and left senseless or dead on he paving- 
stones. 

I looked hastily around. All the shops were closed. 
I was in front of a gloomy-looking house, whose win- 
dows were fast-barred, and against the door of this 
house my assailants had now forced me. 

“Kill him, Hulet!” rose in a wrathful shout, and 
the whole party threw themselves upon me, aiming at 
my head with their clubs. I endeavored in vain to 
parry this storm of blows; my back was against the 
door of the gloomy house ; I lunged with my sword- 
stump, shouting for the watch without result ; then a 
heavy blow fell upon my forehead, and I staggered, 
dropping the stump of my weapon. 

As I did so, the door against which I leaned opened 
suddenly, and I felt myself dragged in. As the ap- 
prentices rushed towards it, it was shut in their faces. 
I then heard a bar fall, and a chain drawn across the 
door. A voice said, “You are safe, sir,” — the voice 
of a woman ; and, half conscious, half fainting, with a 
tremendous buzzing in my ears, I found myself led into 
an apartment, where there was an arm-chair : into this 
I fell, and the same voice said, — 

“ God be thanked ! They have not killed you, sir 1” 


44 


HER MAyESTY THE QUEEN. 


X. 

A TERRIBLE PERSONAGE. 

I raised my languid eyes and gazed at the speaker. 
She was a girl of about twenty, evidently of the middle 
or lower class, but pale, — I might say aristocratic, — and 
with large blue eyes, which looked at me with womanly 
sweetness and a sort of sad sympathy. 

In her face this air of sadness predominated. A deep 
melancholy seemed to weigh upon her, banishing all 
her smiles and roses. 

“You are safe, sir,” she said, in the same low, sweet 
voice. “ These brawls are growing terribly common. If 
I had not heard the noise of staves and the cries, you 
might have been murdered.” 

“I had indeed scarce a chance of preserving my life, 
I think,” I returned; “but, thanks to your. courage, I 
am scarce hurt.” 

“Your head, sir ” 

“ ’Tis nothing ; a little faintness.” 

“I will prepare a reviving draught.” 

And, with deft fingers, the maiden busied herself in 
mingling a flagon of wine, sugar, and spices, which she 
presented to me with the same air of sad sweetness and 
grace. 

I had half emptied the draught, when a door in rear 
of the apartment opened, and a man of tall stature, 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


45 


carrying a little, curly-haired child upon his shoulder, 
came into the room. At sight of me he stopped, almost 
started, and seemed about to retire. Before he could 
do so, the maiden went forward hastily, and spoke to 
him in a low tone. Thereupon he bowed, and came 
forward, saying, in a deep, melancholy, and tremulous 
voice, — 

“You are welcome, sir.” 

The man’s whole demeanor agreed with the voice. 
Never have I seen a human being the victim, ap- 
parently, of such profound and hopeless depression. 
There was something sepulchral, almost, in the expres- 
sion of his long, thin face, around which fell hair once 
black, but now threaded with silver. The eyes were 
sunken in their sockets and surrounded with dark 
rings. The thin lips wore an expression of utter dis- 
couragement. His dress was simple, and not striking 
in any particular, — that of a retired trader, — of dark 
and plain stuff. His manner in advancing was almost 
painfully hesitating and reluctant. 

“My father, sir,” said the maiden, whose sadness 
remained unchanged. “I have explained your pres- 
ence ; and now you must require food, sir. You shall 
have the best our poor house affords.” 

The maiden proceeded then to busy herself spread- 
ing food upon a small table, and, the man having taken 
his seat opposite me, we entered into conversation. 
Meanwhile, the child played about the room, turning 
everything upside down and laughing gleefully. The 
melancholy personage followed all these gambols with 
a glance of sorrowful affection, leaning back in his 
chair; when all at once I saw him rise quickly and 


4 « 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEH. 


hasten towards the child, who had half opened the door 
of a sort of closet in the wall. 

The man dragged him back quickly, and hastily 
closed the door. As he did so, I caught what appeared 
to be the gleam of some bright steel object, and I know 
not what sombre influence this abrupt movement of the 
man exerted upon me. His pale face had flushed, his 
bosom heaved ; and, glancing accidentally at the maiden, 
I saw that she was trembling and seemed about to burst 
into tears. 

What was the meaning of this strange scene? I 
vainly asked myself that question. The man offered no 
explanation. Resuming his seat, and holding the boy 
on his knee now, he gradually grew composed again, 
and continued the conversation in which we had been 
engaged when he started up. It had related to the 
public events of the time, and the struggle going on 
between King Charles and his parliament. 

“I know not which side you espouse, sir,” said the 
man, in his melancholy and tremulous voice, “but I con- 
fess to you that my sympathies are with his majesty.” 

“And mine; but would he were well out of this 
dangerous conflict!” 

“His majesty will not rid himself of his enemies 
until force is employed.” 

“Force? Ah! you mean the exercise of the royal 
right to try and punish. But that is perilous, ’tis said. 
The superior strength seems on the other side. Witness 
Strafford, on Tower Hill: these men tore him from the 
very arms of the king.” 

At the name of Strafford my host became as pale as 
a corpse. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


47 


“ Yes,” he said, in an almost inaudible voice. 

“ If they drank the blood of Strafford, that powerful 
and resolute enemy, any man’s head in the kingdom 
may fall. ’Tis said that never was human being more 
resolute than he ; and the story is that his eyes opened 
and his lips muttered some words even after his head 
was severed.” 

My host’s pallor had become fearful. 

“ ’Tis true,” he murmured. “ I saw him!” 

“ You were present at his execution?” 

“Yes.” 

“ Sufficiently near to see plainly?” 

“ Sufficiently near.” 

“ Then this theory that life continues after decapi- 
tation is well founded?” 

“Yes.” 

The voice seemed to issue from some sepulchral 
vault. The man’s eyes were fixed, almost stony. 

“Life continues — for hours almost — after — decapi- 
tation,” he said, in a slow, tremulous, monotonous 
voice, with a strange absent intonation, as though the 
speaker were soliloquizing. “The brain, when the neck 
is severed, is like a besieged fortress, — besieged, but 
not yet taken ; the outposts are carried, — its communi- 
cations are cut off, — but life is there still ; — the facial 
muscles act, — the lips move, — the eyes open, — the vo- 
lition is maimed, but not paralyzed, — the teeth snap, — 
the brows contract. I have — seen that !” 

He stopped, his pale face bathed in cold sweat. At 
the same moment the maiden, whose cheeks were as 
wan almost as the speaker’s, came to him, touched his 
shoulder, and said, in a faint voice, — 


48 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


“ There, father; you frighten our guest. Supper is 
ready.’ * 

The man uttered a sigh almost as profound as a 
groan. The maiden placed before me a small table, 
upon which food was arranged, and, looking at the 
man, added, — 

“Your supper, father.” 

He shrank back. “ No, Janet,” he murmured ; “ it 

would be disgraceful thus to take advantage of ” 

He stopped. 

“True,” the maiden said, turning away with a 
quivering lip. “I had forgotten, father. I thought 
that kindness offered and accepted made us equal. 
Yes ! yes ! pardon me ! We have no right to ” 

The rest of the sentence was drowned in a sob. I 
could scarce swallow a few mouthfuls. The strange 
scene banished all desire for food. I rose, and 
said, — 

“Thanks for your hospitality, sir; and yours, my 
kind, good friend. I have regained all my strength 
now, and will take my departure, with warm thanks. 
You have saved my life, I think, friends; and Heaven 
will reward you.” 

“ God grant it !” came from the man, who rose, his 
hand resting tenderly and watchfully on the bright 
head of the child. 

“ Let me look and see if the street is safe before you 
go, sir,” said the maiden. 

She went to the door, and returned in a moment, in- 
forming me that she saw no one. 

I put on my beaver, and, going to the door, said, 
“Thanks, friends, again; and now farewell.” 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


49 

As I spoke, I extended my hand towards the tall 
man, but he suddenly drew back. 

“ I cannot — touch your hand, sir ! — As I could not 
sup with you ” 

I gazed at him in astonishment, 

“ It would be — disgraceful !” 

His tones were broken, and the words seemed forced 
from him. 

“ You do not know who I am, — and yet you came 
near knowing. — My dear child opened that terrible 
closet !” 

“The closet?” I murmured, overcome with astonish- 
ment. “ I saw nothing.” 

“ Nothing?” 

“ Save what appeared to be the gleam of steel.” 

The man half thrust me towards the door behind him. 
The maiden Janet bent down weeping, her face covered 
by her hands. 

“That steel was shall I tell you, sir?” 

A sort of convulsion passed over the speaker’s face, 

“Speak!” I said, almost trembling. 

“It was the axe of the executioner ! I could not sit 
with you at table, or take your hand when you offered 
it. I am Gregory Brandon, the headsman of London 1” 

As he uttered these words in a hoarse and stifled 
voice, the headsman groaned. A moment afterwards 
he had closed the door: I was alone in the dim-lit 
thoroughfare : from behind the door I heard a second 
groan, with which mingled the sobs of a woman. 


5 ° 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


XI. 

THE CAVALIER IN PURPLE VELVET. 

I issued from Rosemary Lane, passed beneath the 
shadow of the Tower, which rose grim and lugubrious 
above the houses, reached Whitehall, mounted, and 
returned towards Hampton Court, plunged in thought, 
and overcome by the strange scene which I had 
witnessed. 

I had been the guest of the headsman ! But for this 
terrible person’s refusal to accept the hand I had offered, 
my own would have clasped the bloody palm which 
had severed so many necks. 

I shuddered almost at the thought, — living over the 
whole scene again. The hand resting so tenderly on 
the bright curls of the child had struck off the proud 
head of Strafford ! Within a few feet of me, there in 
that mysterious closet, was the frightful instrument 
which had so often cut through flesh, blood-vessels, and 
vertebrae, from whose keen, impassive edge human 
blood had so often been wiped ! Seated opposite me 
in friendly talk, the talk of guest and host, was the 
grim human being who had entered the cell of the 
condemned as with the tramp of a fate, bound the firm 
or trembling arms, hobbled the feet with the inexora- 
ble cord, and, striking the victim on the shoulder when 
the moment came, had muttered, in his hoarse voice, 
“ You belong to me now !” 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


S 1 

All the way to Hampton Court I was thinking of my 
singular adventure ; but as I came in front of the palace 
a figure, visible through one of the tall windows, ban- 
ished every other thought. It was the figure of Frances 
Villiers, standing erect in the full light of the flam' 
beaux flooding the apartment. She was clad in rich 
brocade, cut low, so that her exquisite neck was clearly 
revealed ; the beautiful head, with the looped-up pearls, 
was bent towards one fair shoulder. She was smiling 
with her habitual expression of grave sweetness, and 
apparently listening to some one. 

I drew rein, and, concealed beneath the shadow of a 
great oak, gazed long at the girl who had now become 
more dear to me than my life. In a day, an hour, as 
it were, I had come to love her with all the power of 
my being. She had waked up my slumbering heart, 
and henceforward I felt that she, and she alone, was 
my queen ! 

Pardon this gush of romance, friend, — ’tis an old 
gray-head that indulges in it. Many decades have 
flown since then ; I am aged, and the bloom of life is 
gone ; but I remember, and will until I die, the beau- 
tiful figure I gazed on that night through the windows 
of the palace of Hampton Court. 

Z was still watching the exquisite figure, as it moved 
to and fro in attendance on the queen, when a sudden 
trampling was heard in the great avenue, and a party 
of horsemen, three or four in number, came on at 
headlong speed. 

The incident aroused me from my reverie with some- 
thing like a shock. Who were these horsemen who 
presumed to ride in so careless a manner towards the 


52 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


palace ? It was lese-majesty almost, to pay this small 
respect to the queen. Could some partisans of the 
parliament design an insult, or a raid on the deer? 
Resolved to know, I spurred to meet them, and, inter- 
posing myself in the way, ordered them to halt. 

No attention whatever was paid to my order. On 
the contrary, I was nearly ridden over. A cavalier, 
richly clad in purple velvet slashed with satin, a deep 
lace collar, and wearing a gray beaver with a feather, 
rushed by me at full speed ; the rest followed. They 
all clattered to the great gateway, and then a sudden 
commotion followed, to ascertain the character of 
which I hastened to the palace. 

The Guards were hastening to form line, and every 
sword was brought to the salute. The cavalier in the 
purple velvet habit had leaped to the ground. He was 
a person of middle age, with curling hair worn long, 
mustache and royale, large, mournful eyes, a long, thin 
face, and a very graceful person. There was some- 
thing commanding in his air, and I was not long left 
in doubt as to his identity. The palace was in com- 
motion ; figures passed and repassed hurriedly in the 
queen’s apartment, at which I had been gazing ; then, 
as the cavalier of the velvet habit gave his bridle to 
one of his attendant gentlemen, the great staircase 
suddenly blazed, the flambeau-bearers descended, and 
in the midst of her maids of honor, gathered round 
her like a flock of doves, her majesty the queen was 
seen to come rapidly down the staircase. 

As she came, the melancholy face of the cavalier filled 
with smiles. It was the expression of a husband who 
loves his wife and returns after long absence, fig 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEtf. 


S3 

hastened towards her ; they met in the full light of the 
flambeaux, and were clasped in a close embrace. 

“ Sweet heart!” exclaimed the cavalier, with glow- 
ing cheeks. 

“ Dear heart I” was the queen’s response, in a mur- 
mur, and on the two faces I could see the sunshine of 
the heart. 

They then drew back, as though to avoid the eyes 
of those around them, and passed up the great stair- 
case between a. double line of lords and ladies, her 
majesty leaning fondly on her companion’s arm. The 
light of the flambeaux fell upon them in a sort of 
glory. They disappeared, and, as they were lost sight 
of, a great shout rose, rolling through the palace, — 

“ Long live their majesties !” 

I had seen King Charles I. at last. He had left his 
escort on the road from Scotland, mounted his horse 
like a common cavalier, and, attended by only a few 
of his lords, had ridden straight to Hampton Court to 
see Queen Mary. 


XII. 

THE LITTLE QUEEN. 

Scandal said that their majesties had not been 
always so devoted, or at least that furious storms had 
swept the matrimonial skies. 

From London, the young king, just married by 
proxy, had hastened to Dover to meet the little queen 

5* 


54 


HER MAyESTY THE QUEEN. 


of sixteen ; caught her in his arms when she offered to 
kneel ; and, in reply to her address, “ Sire, I am come 
into this your majesty’s country to be at your com- 
mand,” exclaimed, “You have not fallen into the 
hands of enemies and strangers, and I will be no longer 
master myself than while I am servant to you.” And 
then what the French call enfantillages followed. The 
king, noticing that her head reached to his shoulder, 
glanced at her feet to ascertain if her height were not 
due to her high-heeled shoes. Whereupon the little 
queen drew aside her skirt, exhibited her small feet 
with all the coquetterie of a French girl, and said, 
“Sire, I stand on my own feet; I have no help from 
art : thus high am I, neither higher nor lower !” 

This joy and laughter of the little daughter of the 
famous Henry of Navarre was truly a strange contrast 
to her after-woes. But then all was bright and smiling. 
The fatal conflicts of the future threw no shadows before. 
The youthful pair were greeted by great crowds upon 
the Thames, and fSted everywhere; and no raven 
croaked from the hollow tree to interrupt the joy, 
romance, and sunshine of their nuptials. 

I have seen the portrait of Queen Henrietta at this 
period, painted by Vandyke, and the face and form 
are exquisite. In the picture she has a fair complexion, 
fine dark eyes, and hair of a chestnut color. The 
slight and delicate figure is clad in a dress of white 
satin, with a tightly-fitting bodice decorated with pink 
ribbon ; the sleeves full, with ruffles ; the arms encir- 
cled by bracelets. Around her neck she wears a fine 
pearl necklace; a red ribbon twisted with pearls is 
woven amid her glossy hair behind the head. *Tis a 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


55 

gracious, smiling maiden, full of youth and joy, on 
whose forehead grief has never cast its shadow. 

The shadow was approaching: private infelicities 
preceded the public ; the fond lovers were to come to 
angry words, and criminations and recriminations. 

All arose from the Catholic attendants of the queen, 
who fostered in every manner the religious differences 
between the pair, and went so far as openly to defy 
the king. Under this he was restive ; and one morn- 
ing his wrath burst forth. He came to the queen’s 
apartments at Whitehall, and found the French ladies 
curveting and dancing in the presence of her majesty. 
The scene shocked his ideas of dignity and ceremony : 
he took the hand of the queen and conducted her to 
his own apartment, where he locked her majesty in ; 
then he sent word by Lord Conway to the French 
ladies to leave Whitehall and repair to Somerset House, 
where they were to await his pleasure. Thereupon 
rose a grand lament and the din of angry female 
voices. Loud cries arose ; defiant words were heard, — 
in the midst of which a guard appeared, and with little 
ceremony caused them to vacate the apartment, the 
door of which was inexorably locked behind them. 

A sad scene ensued between their majesties there- 
upon. The queen ran to the window to bid her dear 
French attendants farewell. The king drew her back, 
saying, “Be satisfied; it must be so.” The queen 
broke from him and rushed to the window, the panes 
of which she struck so violently with her clenched 
hands that the glass flew to pieces and crashed down 
into the court. The king succeeded at last in drawing 
her majesty away from the window, — the shocking 


56 her majesty the queen. 

scene ended, — and the king wrote his grace the Duke 
of Buckingham, “I command you to send all the 
French away to-morrow out of the town, — if you can, by 
fair means, but stick not long in disputing ; otherwise 
force them away, driving them away like so many wild 
beasts, until you have shipped them, and so the devil 
go with them.” 

The command was obeyed : in the midst of a great 
mob, hooting at and cursing the Frenchwomen, the 
ladies were ejected from Somerset House. They re- 
treated, raging, scolding, gesticulating, and were sent 
out of the country. The king had conquered. 

There were other painful scenes. The king himself 
related how, after retiring to bed with her majesty one 
night, they had a passionate altercation as to the ap- 
pointment of the queen’s revenue-officers. Read the 
narrative : ’tis painful. The king, falling into a rage, 
bade her majesty “ remember to whom she spoke!” 
To which she replied, with passionate weeping, that 
“she was not of such base quality as to be used so!” 
There is a long distance, you see, reader, between this 
state of things and the scene I witnessed at Hampton 
Court. In the one case it is husband and wife squab- 
bling and scolding like Jack and Gill fallen out ; in 
the other it is the fond pair embracing each other, 
with “Dear heart!” “Sweet heart!” heard between 
their kisses ! 

We old people have seen that often on our journey 
through life ! Alas ! men and women grow angry, 
are unjust and unkind, often ; but happy are the mar- 
ried pairs who truly love and cherish each other. The 
sunshine comes after the storm ; all clouds disappear ; 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


57 

and even after that scene in which their majesties 
struggled at the broken window in Whitehall, ’tis said 
that the king and queen made friends speedily and 
“ were very jocund together 1” 


XIII. 

MY TRAVELING-COMPANION. 

I was sent at daylight on the morning succeeding 
the king’s arrival, to bear a dispatch to Woodstock 
Palace for her majesty, and, having fulfilled my duty, 
determined to gallop across country and spend an 
hour with my father at Cecil Court. 

I shall not dwell upon this visit, which was a very 
great pleasure to me, — home events are not of interest 
to all, — but come to my first meeting with a very noble 
as well as a very famous man, whom I encountered on 
the highway, in Buckinghamshire, towards evening, on 
my way back to London. 

I had just emerged from a belt of woods, and saw 
the sun setting across the beautiful fields, when a horse- 
man riding in front of me attracted my attention, and 
I was very soon beside him. 

He turned his head, and bade me good-day so cour- 
teously that I checked my horse’s speed and rode on 
with him. He was a man of middle age, clad in a 
rich dark pourpoint, and wearing a black hat and ex- 
cellent riding-boots. His figure was lofty and com- 
C* 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


5* 

manding ; his face very noble, and full of grave cour- 
tesy and sweetness. When he spoke, his voice had 
an extraordinary calmness and simplicity, which sim- 
plicity was indeed plain in every detail of face, figure, 
and bearing. 

In ten minutes I felt entirely at my ease with the 
stranger, and we rode on side by side, conversing 
upon public events with perfect freedom. 

“ His majesty has returned from Scotland,” said my 
companion. “I am glad to know that : her majesty 
will be made happy by seeing him again. ’ * 

I smiled, and said, “You are plainly a royalist, and 
not one of the new party, sir.” 

My companion smiled in his turn. “I am scarce a 
royalist in the ordinary meaning of the term, sir ; but 
sure ’tis a pleasure to all honest men to know that a 
good husband is safely restored to his wife, and to con- 
template with satisfaction the little domestic picture 
of their meeting.” 

“ Assuredly ; and, after all, the king is not perhaps so 
black as he is painted.” 

“He is not, sir. It is the vice of partisan feeling to 
drive men to extremes. His majesty, in my opinion, — 
to be frank, — has committed very great faults. It is 
scarce too harsh, I think, to say that his conceptions 
of the royal prerogative, if carried out, would over- 
turn all civil liberty ; but that is no proof that he is 
cruel or licentious, or a despot from love of despot- 
ism.” The words were uttered with great sadness. 

“ Shall I imitate your frankness, and utter my 
thought plainly, sir?” I said. 

“Surely.” 


HER MAJESTY THE Q C/E EM 


$9 

“ Were I his majesty, then, I should fear adversaries 
holding your views more than all the Pyms, Cromwells, 
and Hampdens in the world.’ ’ 

* ‘The Hampdens?” asked the stranger, smiling. 
“ Do you refer to Mr. John Hampden, the member 
from Buckinghamshire?” 

“ The same, sir.” 

“ Is he so violent and dangerous a personage?” 

“I do not know Mr. Hampden, but such is his 
reputation.” 

The stranger rode on for some moments in silence. 

“ I had not supposed that Mr. Hampden bore so 
bad a character,” he said, at length. “What are the 
grounds, I pray you, sir, of such an opinion of that 
gentleman?” 

“ His prominence in opposition to the levying of 
ship-money by his majesty. Mr. Hampden was the 
first person of high position who opposed the royal 
prerogative.” 

“True,” the stranger said, somewhat sadly; “and 
so the fellow-subjects of Mr. Hampden — honorable 
gentlemen — think him violent, and a demagogue 1 
Pity ! — but may we not regard Mr. Hampden’s mo- 
tives as conscientious?” 

“ His friends do, doubtless, — not the adherents of 
his majesty.” 

“That sums up all, I fear, sir,” the stranger returned ; 
“ and I will not undertake a defense of Mr. Hampden, — 
of whom, however, it may be said with truth that he 
risked a good estate rather than pay twenty shillings 
without warrant of law for the exaction. Yes, his 
friends will defend him, his adversaries denounce him, 


6o 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEH. 


as you say. To the first, he is a sincere lover of law 
and liberty; to the second, a pestilent demagogue, 
itching for notoriety and power. So be it : one day 
his true character will doubtless be known.” 

“ Meanwhile, were I acquainted with Mr. Hampden, 
I think I should give him some advice, sir,” I said. 

“And pray what would be the advice?” my com- 
panion said, smiling courteously. 

“ Not to act with Pym, Ireton, Cromwell, and other 
extremists, who are ready to go all lengths.” 

“‘All lengths’ is a strong expression, sir,” the 
stranger returned, with his immovable grave sweetness. 
“ The gentlemen you name have the repute of aiming 
only at a redress of grievances.” 

“ They will not stop there.” 

“ You would say ” 

“ That revolutions begin with the pen, and end with 
the sword, — and shall I add something more terrible ?” 

“What?” 

“With violence : the cup of the poisoner or the axe 
of the headsman.” 

My companion started, and his countenance grew 
cold and stern in an instant. A flash darted from his 
eyes, and his cheek became pale. 

“ That is a bitter charge against good men,” he said. 
“What induces you to believe that any living English- 
man is ready to turn assassin ?” 

“ The philosophy of revolutions,” I returned, “ and 
the history I have read.” 

“ And the political struggles of the period we live 
in may result in the death of his majesty, you think, 
by the hands of his own subjects?” 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 

“ ‘May’ has many meanings, sir. *Tis not impossi- 
ble, — is it?” 

My companion rode on without uttering a word. A 
mile at least was passed over thus, in profound silence. 
Then the stranger raised his head, which had been 
drooping. “You have broached a terrible idea,” he 
said ; “one which my mind never up to this time enter- 
tained. I will not discuss it. I shrink from the very 
thought with a species of horror. I can conceive that 
Mr. Cromwell and others might oppose the king, — even 
in open combat on the field of battle, perhaps ; either 
side may inaugurate that struggle, and the other will 
accept the gage of defiance; but that the king’s life 
can ever be threatened with poison or the executioner’s 
axe on this soil of England, — that, sir, I will never be- 
lieve, — never ! the thought is too frightful!” 

“I hope ’tis only my fancy.” 

“ And I, sir. I cannot speak for others ; but for one 
of those you have named I can answer without hesita- 
tion, He might oppose the king’s adherents — even 
the king himself — in battle ; but he would sooner lay 
down his own life than touch with a finger the person 
of his majesty. I can answer for that person, I say ; 
and I have the best of all rights to do so, — for I am 
that John Hampden of whom we have spoken.” 


6 


62 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


XIV. 

I MAKE THE ACQUAINTANCE OF MR. CROMWELL. 

I was so much astonished at this sudden revelation 
of the identity of my traveling-companion, that I gazed 
at him in stupid silence. 

Thereupon the cordial smile returned to his fine 
face, and he said, — 

“ We have conversed under a mask, as ’twere, sir ; 
and I take no umbrage at the opinions you have ex- 
pressed of a certain Mr. Hampden. I confess, even, 
that the maxim noscitur a sociis bears with some justice 
upon him, and perhaps justifies your views of him. But 
now let us abandon these mooted subjects. We differ 
in political views, but I dare to say that you are as true 
and honest an English gentleman as any. I would fain 
claim for myself the same character : I am called hos- 
pitable at least, and there is my house through the oaks. 
Will it please you, sir — see, the sun has set — to spend 
the night with me?” 

I refused, and then accepted. There was something 
so gracious and noble in my companion’s utterances 
that I could not resist. 

“ Thanks, Mr. Hampden,” I said. “I accept your 
hospitality as cordially as you offer it. I am named 
Edmund Cecil, — a poor guardsman of the queen,” 

“Of the Cecils of Warwickshire?” 

^ The same,” 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 63 

“ I know your father well, and esteem him highly* 
Mr. Cecil. But here is my poor house.’ ’ 

We entered a great park, and just at dusk came in 
front of a large and handsome manor-house, built in 
the Elizabethan style, and indicating wealth and con- 
sideration in its proprietor. 

In the great drawing-room I was presented to Mr. 
Hampden’s charming household; and in the faces which 
greeted me with smiles, as in all the appointments of 
the mansion, I observed that indefinable grace and dis- 
tinction which never deceives. 

I had just returned the hospitable greetings of the 
amiable family, when there came into the apartment a 
robust personage, clad in a dark cloth suit entirely 
without decoration, heavy boots covered with dust, and 
an old slouch hat discolored by sun and rain. This 
personage, despite the negligence of his attire, had yet 
something lofty and imposing in the carriage of his 
person: he advanced with an air of almost haughty 
independence, — absorbed, it would seem from the ab- 
sent expression of his large eyes, in thoughts wholly 
disconnected from his surroundings. 

“The terrible Mr. Cromwell!” said my host, in a 
low tone, smiling as he spoke. And I was presented 
to the personage who so completely justified afterwards 
the adjective now applied to him in jest. 

Mr. Cromwell saluted me in an absent manner, and 
then removed his hat, which he seemed to have for- 
gotten. I soon learned that he had just arrived from 
Huntingdon, riding out of his way, to accompany Mr. 
Hampden, his cousin, to London; and the evening 
passed in desultory conversation. What chiefly im* 


64 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


pressed me in this afterwards celebrated man was his 
rough earnestness, the pith and force of his utterances, 
which seemed to go right to the core of every subject, 
and the occasional employment of scriptural names 
and phrases in his conversation. I never before heard 
Ahab, Baal, Og, and other Biblical personages alluded 
to with such frequency or apparent gusto. And Mr. 
Cromwell never smiled ; he was profoundly in earnest, 
and all his utterances were weighty. Even when 
relating how an ape had snatched him from his cradle, 
when an infant, and borne him, chattering, to the roof 
of- his father’s house, and how he had been rescued 
from drowning, when he had already sunk twice, and 
his nose and mouth were filled with water, he did not 
indulge in the faintest approach to a smile, but gar- 
nished those narratives, like the rest of his discourse, 
with names and allusions from the Old Testament 
Scriptures. 

This culminated when at bedtime he offered up a 
prayer. It was an extraordinary prayer, deeply earnest 
and devout ; I might almost say passionate in its evi- 
dent outpouring from his inmost heart ; but here too 
were the inevitable Old Testament names and refer- 
ences. When Mr. Cromwell rose from his knees, after 
his long and fervent prayer, his eyes were as dreamy as 
though fixed upon another world : he scarcely returned 
the addresses of the family, and retired from the room 
with the absent air of one who is walking in his sleep. 

Such was the appearance of this extraordinary per- 
son on that evening. He was commonplace; he became 
terrible. He wore plain cloth; he came to wear royal 
yelye^. He was then Mr, Cromwell, unknown save a§ 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


6 5 

a country member ; he was to become known through- 
out the world as the slayer of King Charles I., the Lord 
Protector of England, and one of the greatest sovereigns 
that ever sat upon the English throne. 

On the next morning I bade Mr. Hampden and his 
excellent household farewell, and, riding rapidly to 
make up for lost time, arrived late in the evening at 
Hampton Court. 


XV. 


A COMBAT BY MOONLIGHT. 

As I dismounted in the court-yard of the palace, 
Harry came out and hugged me after the French 
fashion introduced by the followers of her majesty. 

“ Here’s a laggard !” cried Harry. “ What was the 
attraction at Woodstock, Ned? Did you lose your- 
self in the labyrinth built to hide Fair Rosamond?” 

“I don’t believe there is any labyrinth, Harry; and 
I’ve been to Cecil Court.” 

I proceeded to give my brother news of home, and 
to describe my meeting with Mr. Hampden; then, 
seeing signs of unwonted activity in the palace, I asked 
their meaning. 

“ His majesty is to make his royal entry into Lon- 
don to-morrow. You are just in time, Ned. We’re 
all going, — Guards, courtiers, maids of honor, dwarfs, 
and all !” 


6 * 


66 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


“Dwarfs?” 

“ I mean that his worship Sir Geoffrey Hudson, now 
become a great favorite with her majesty, will grace the 
occasion with his presence, no less than the largest of 
us. And do you know, Ned, this little manikin and 
mere hop-o’-my-thumb is a decided character?” 

“ I should think as much.” 

“ I mean that he is no mere plaything, weak in head 
as in body, like the rest of his pigmy species, but a man 
in feeling, and in brain too, — grave, serious, and cour- 
ageous. His deformity is a source of deep mortifica- 
tion to him ; and when the maids of honor caress him 
lap-dog fashion, he looks at them as though he would 
bite them, uttering a singular sort of snarl, and plainly 
resents their treatment of him as though he were a 
plaything.” 

“And towards the men?” 

“He is stern and bitter. ’Tis the fashion to tease 
him ; and that sallow-faced Coftangry of the Guards 
takes the lead. Hark ! there they are in the guard- 
room now. I hear the piping voice of the dwarf and 
the gibing tones of Coftangry. Let us go see !” 

We entered the guard-room, where a singular spec- 
tacle presented itself. Some young noblemen of the 
Guards — for half the company were lords — were stand- 
ing in a circle around some object upon the floor, 
which I made out on a nearer approach to be the figure 
of the dwarf. The manikin, who was less than two 
feet in height, wore a very rich costume, — velvet cloak, 
plumed beaver, silk stockings, and high-heeled shoes 
with large rosettes. At his side hung a miniature dress 
sword, about the length of a knitting-needle; and his 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


67 


face flamed with anger, as he fixed his eyes spitefully 
upon a tall, sallow-faced young gentleman with a 
sneering expression of countenance, who was teasing 
the pigmy for the general amusement. 

“ Come, come, your knightship,” said Coftangry, 
with a sneer ; “ dance a galliard for our entertainment. 
Hop, hop, Sir Hop-o’-my-thumb !” 

“Were I a lady, sir,” said the dwarf, in his thin, 
piping voice, “ I know what I never should do.” 

“What is that, pray?” 

“ I should never hop in a galliard with such a tallow- 
faced anatomy as yourself!” 

The retort raised a loud laugh. Coftangry was im- 
mensely unpopular, and the dwarf had touched his 
tender point, — his lath-like body and sallow com- 
plexion. 

“ ’Twas but yesterday,” piped the dwarf, “that I 
overheard two of her majesty’s maids of honor con- 
versing. One said, ‘ Who is this Coftangry, and how 
do such people get to court?’ 4 1 know not,’ returned 
the other, ‘unless they are dug up and brought as 
curiosities.’ ” 

A second laugh came from the group, and Coft- 
angry grew furious. 

“If you were not a wretched pigmy,” he cried, 
losing his self-possession and giving way to anger, “I 
would chastise you upon the spot ! ’ ’ 

The dwarf bounded with rage. 

“ Chastise me? You dare not attempt it ! I wear a 
sword !” he shrilled. 

“Ha, ha!” came from Coftangry, in forced merri- 
ment ; “a skewer, you would say 1” 


68 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEH. 


The dwarf whipped out his weapon, and the circle 
suddenly widened. 

“ No fighting in the palace, gentlemen !” cried one 
of the young noblemen, with mock earnestness. 

“True,” the dwarf growled, returning his sword to 
its scabbard; “but this tallow-face has gibed at me, 
and I return his insult — thus ! ’ ’ 

With incredible agility, the pigmy leaped upon a 
chair, thence to the long table near, and, before Coft- 
angry divined his intention, bestowed a violent slap 
upon the Guardsman’s face. It was delivered with all 
the energy of hatred, and rang through the apartment. 
Coftangry uttered a cry of rage. 

“Woe to you, cur !” he shouted ; and he was about 
to smite the erect and defiant dwarf to the earth, when 
a hand was laid on his shoulder, and Harry’s voice 
said, — 

“You don’t mean to strike thai i; ttle man, I hope, 
sir? You will exterminate him !” 

“Who are you?” growled Coftangry, wheeling 
round. 

“My name is Cecil, sir,” was the reply. 

“Well, I counsel you, Mr. Cecil, to attend to your 
own affairs !” 

Harry flushed red, and went close to Coftangry. 

“I make this my affair, sir,” he said, “since ’tis 
always the business of a gentleman to protect the weak 
from outrage.” 

“You shall answer for this intrusion !” 

“I am quite willing to do so, sir,” said Harry, in a 
low tone. “ The moon is shining ; there is the park; 
five minutes’ walk will take us out of view.” 


her majesty the queeh. 


69 


Coftangry had, apparently, not expected a proposi- 
tion so sudden and direct. He was silent for a moment, 
and became very pale, but he saw that all eyes were 
fixed upon him. The consequence was that fifteen 
minutes afterwards Harry and himself were standing 
opposite each other, sword in hand, in a remote 
portion of the park, a number of the Guardsmen 
having accompanied the adversaries to witness the 
encounter. 

Such affairs were at that time of every-day occur- 
rence, and seldom resulted in more than a few scratches, 
when the friends of the parties would declare that 
honor was satisfied. 

Such was the result on this occasion. It was a sin- 
gular encounter, — a very burlesque. Harry lunged, 
expecting his opponent to parry. He did nothing of 
the sort, and Harry ran his sword-hand on Coftangry’ s 
point, wounding himself. 

“ ’Tis plain you’re no swordsman, sir ; I will there- 
fore disarm without hurting you,” said my brother. 

As he spoke, Coftangry ’s rapier flew twenty paces, 
and Harry coolly returned his sword to its scabbard. 

“Take your life, sir,” he said ; “I have no use for 
it. Good-evening, sir.” 

And, winding a handkerchief around his bleeding 
hand, he left the spot, accompanied by his friends. 

Such was the termination of the impromptu duel ; 
beginning and ending in a few minutes, under the 
moonlight in Hampton Court park. I have spoken 
of it because it was the preface to a duel with more 
deadly results ; but that incident will be narrated in its 
place. 


70 


HER MAJESTY THE QC/EEtf. 


I pass to the king’s entry into London now, and to 
the great and unfortunate events which marked the few 
succeeding days. 


XVI. 

SIR THEODORE MAYHERNE. 

The royal entry into London was an imposing pa- 
geant. The king rode in front on horseback, reining 
in his spirited charger, decorated with rich housings ; 
and on his left hand rode the Prince of Wales, after- 
wards his majesty Charles II., at that time a handsome 
boy of eleven. 

Behind the king came the queen, in her state-coach 
drawn by six white horses, their heads and backs sur- 
mounted by nodding plumes. And in the royal coach 
also rode the children of her majesty, bright-faced 
little ones, looking with ardent interest upon the crowd. 
Then came the coaches, with the royal suite ; behind, the 
Guards ; last of all a vast multitude following, crowd- 
ing close, and shouting, “God save the king !” 

’Tis impossible to recall this scene, when that cry 
was heard for the last time, without sadness and a 
sinking of the heart. Alas ! the dark hours were com- 
ing, the shadow was even then descending upon those 
human beings. 

The procession reached Whitehall and disappeared; 
then the crowd dispersed. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


71 


I was just unbuckling my sword, when Harry, who 
had entered the guard-room of the palace a moment 
before me, said, — 

“This hand of mine hurts confoundedly, Ned! 
Serves me right for fighting with that awkward cub 
Coftangry ! It is swelling. I wish you would go ask 
my friend Sir Theodore Mayherne to come look at it.” 

“ Sir Theodore Mayherne, Harry? Who is he?” 

“ Their majesties’ household physician, and a great 
friend of mine. He lives in Gray’s Inn Lane, and is , 
a perfect wolf, but an excellent surgeon and gentle- 
man. ’ ’ 

I set off at once to find the wolf, and soon reached 
Gray’s Inn Lane, where I was directed to a handsome 
house and admitted by a servant in black. A moment 
afterwards, a portly personage, with long gray hair fly- 
ing about his face, and the air of a lion interrupted in 
his repast, entered the room like a hurricane. 

“Your pleasure, sir!” thundered the lion, wolf, or 
hurricane, — whichever the reader pleases. 

“Sir Theodore Mayherne, I believe, sir?” 

“An absurd question ! Who else could I be?” 

I smiled. “You might be a thunder-storm ! if that 
response be not too unceremonious, Sir Theodore.” 

“Unceremonious? Not a bit! I hate ceremony! 
A thunder-storm? Ha ! ha !” And the portly person 
shook. “That is the way I like people to talk to me,” 
he added : “it’s natural, expresses the thought. I’m sick 
of mincing and cant, and bowing and scraping, and 
French ways ! What’s your business?” 

I saw that I had to do with an original who liked 
coming to the point. 


72 


her majesty the qurem. 


“ Harry Cecil, of the queen’s guards, has hurt his 
hand in a duel, and wishes you to come look at it.” 

“ Harry Cecil ! — a crack-brained jackanapes ! What 
the devil have I to do with Harry Cecil ? ’Tis as much 
as I can do to patch up her majesty’s nerves, broken 
down by her popish fasts and vigils and penances 
and all the rest of their devil’s inventions !” 

I rose and bowed. “Thanks, Sir Theodore. I will 
tell Harry you are coming, then.” The thunder-storm 
looked at me with a lurking smile. “He is at White- 
hall,” I added. 

“Well, I’ll come! These scatterbrains, with their 
roystering and fighting, and drinking and swearing, — 
mark my words, sir, the canting rascals of parliament 
will clip their love-locks ! Harry Cecil is one of the 
worst of them, — your brother, from the likeness, no 
doubt, — a pestilent rascal!” And, turning his back 
upon me abruptly, Sir Theodore Mayherne, physician 
to their majesties, disappeared from the apartment 


XVII. 

I VISIT A GENTLEMAN AFTERWARDS FAMOUS THROUGH- 
OUT THE WORLD. 

I left the house of the original character with whom 
I had thus become acquainted, and was walking along 
Gray’s Inn Lane on my way back to Whitehall, when 
there came forth from a handsome house a tall and 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEtf. 


73 

noble-looking gentleman, in whom I recognized at once 
my host of Buckinghamshire, Mr. Hampden. 

“Give you good-day, Mr. Cecil,” he said, grasping 
my hand with cordial regard : “it seems our fate to 
encounter each other. What brings you to Gray’s Inn 
Lane, where I reside, on this chill morning ?* ’ 

I explained my mission, and Mr. Hampden shook 
his head. 

“ You young gentlemen are too fond of that sword- 
amusement, I fear,” he said; “but ’tis, unfortunately, 
out of my power to preach at length on this vice. I 
once practiced it.” 

“Is it possible?” I said, smiling; “the grave and 
serious Mr. Hampden, of the parliament?” 

‘ 1 He was once as bad as the worst, Mr. Cecil ! Let 
us be honest ! And I think even my good cousin Crom- 
well must plead guilty to the same charge.” 

“ Mr. Cromwell ! that enthusiast in matters of re- 
ligion !” 

“Was in his youth a roystering blade, fond of 
catches at midnight and the foam of flagons ! Thus 
you see, Mr. Cecil, neither the grave Mr. Hampden 
nor the pious Mr. Cromwell can with a very good 
grace preach peace and order to the young gentle- 
men of this generation ! I know but one person who 
seems to me immaculate, — a young man whose genius 
will render his name more famous than all others of 
his epoch. He lives in Aldersgate Street, and I am 
going to visit him. Will it please you to accompany 
me?” 

“With great pleasure,” I said; and ten minutes’ 
walk brought us to a small house, set in a contracted 
D 7 


74 


her majesty the qveeh. 


garden. From within the house was heard the sound 
of an organ. 

“Our friend is playing upon his organ: ’tis his 
favorite entertainment,” said my companion. “I 
will use no ceremony, and enter, since he would never 
hear our knocking.” 

He opened the door as he spoke, and led the way to 
an apartment on the right of the entrance. It was 
poorly, almost meanly, furnished ; in one corner stood 
a small erect organ with green hangings above, and at 
this organ sat a man of about thirty, playing a devo- 
tional piece, in which he was so absorbed as not to 
notice our entrance. 

Mr. Hampden approached and touched him on the 
shoulder. He turned his head, and I never saw a face 
of more delicate beauty. The eyes were large and 
thoughtful ; the lips thin, with an expression of grave 
austerity ; the cheeks rosy, the high forehead as fair as 
a woman’s, and around this beautiful countenance fell 
long fair hair, parted in the middle and reaching to the 
shoulders. 

He rose, and bowed with grave courtesy, taking Mr. 
Hampden’s offered hand. 

“I have brought my friend Mr. Cecil to see you, 
Mr. Milton,” said my companion. 

Mr. Milton repeated his salute. 

“Of her majesty’s Guards, I believe, sir,” he said, 
glancing at my uniform. “ I witnessed the royal 
entry to-day, — a very imposing spectacle.” 

“You?” said Mr. Hampden. “Then wonders will 
never cease. I had supposed you safe at home here, 
composing your poems or treatises, Mr. Milton. What 


BER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


75 


fancy now possesses you, and when will you carry out 
your design of writing your epic on paradise lost by 
our first parents?” 

Mr. Milton shook his head somewhat sadly. 

“ Never, I fear,” he replied. 

“Are you afraid that our father Adam would not 
support you in your favorite theory?” 

“What is that, Mr. Hampden?” 

“Polygamy — that ’tis allowed in the Scriptures.” 

“ Do you deny that it is therein taught? The proof 
is very easy,” said Mr. Milton, quietly. 

“And so you, Mr. Milton, I, and our friend Mr. 
Cecil have, each and all of us, the right to espouse two, 
or ten, or twenty wives, if we fancy?” 

“Yes,” said Mr. Milton; and he was going to open 
an Old Testament Scriptures, when his friend stopped 
him, smiling. 

“ I fear you will corrupt our consciences, my worthy 
sir. We are not of the line of the patriarchs. Let us 
leave polygamy and return to letters. You are en- 
gaged in composing something other than political, I 
trust. ’Tis so wearisome, that species of discussion. 
Ah ! here are some sheets. Is it permitted me to look 
at them?” 

Mr. Milton made a movement with his hand. 

“ ’Tis only some rhymes of the woods and fields,” 
he said. “ I please myself in the din of this great city 
by thus returning to my youth in fancy.” 

Mr. Hampden had taken up the written sheets, and 
now read aloud in his deep and musical voice a truly 
exquisite passage from the afterwards celebrated poem 
styled “L’ Allegro,” a name no doubt bestowed upon 


76 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


it in consequence of Mr. Milton’s fondness for the 
Italian tongue. The reader was plainly an expert in 
the difficult art of managing the human voice. A 
charming sweetness marked his intonation, and the 
glow upon his cheeks indicated the admiration with 
which the lines of the poet — yet unknown — inspired 
him. 

The reading ended, and I, at least, was silent from 
admiration. I think Mr. Hampden was pleased with 
this expression of my face ; for he said to me, — 

“Is not that pure music, sir?” 

He turned, as he spoke, to Mr. Milton, and said, in 
his deep rich voice, — 

“ ’Tis truly like a breath from the fields of Eng- 
land, Mr. Milton, and the melody to my ear is wonder- 
ful. But 

' Sweetest Shakspeare, fancy’s child, 

Warbles his native wood-notes wild/ 

does injustice to greater men, I think, — to Mr. Beau- 
mont, Mr. Fletcher, and rare Ben Jonson.” 

“ Such, I know, is the common opinion, Mr. Hamp- 
den,” said the other; “but I cannot share it. The 
brain that originated ‘ The Tempest’ and conceived 
the wonderful tragedy of ‘ Hamlet, Prince of Den- 
mark,’ is, to my thinking, the greatest in our English 
letters. Others are tall ; Shakspeare is a giant, me- 
thinks. I would be content, wellnigh, to have reached 
gray hairs could I have seen and talked with him.” 

I said with a smile, when my host thus spoke, — 

“I think my father would exchange ages with you 
upon that understanding, Mr. Milton. We live near 
Stratford-on-Avon, and Mr. Shakspeare was a good 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN . 


77 


friend of my father when the latter was young. He 
often came to Cecil Court, as our house is named, and 
was excellent company, and full of smiles and sweet- 
ness, I’m told. You cannot know him now, since he 
is long dead; but if you will visit us you shall sit in 
the chair he was accustomed to use, drink from his 
favorite cup, and see his name which he wrote with 
his own hand on a window-pane.” 

“That would please me greatly, sir; but I am a 
prisoner here, I fear. I teach children for bread, and 
the birds have flown but recently. You must go?” 
for I had risen some moments before. “ Thanks for 
your visit, Mr. Cecil,” said Mr. Milton; and, con- 
ducting me to the door, he made me a bow of much 
grace, in which he was imitated by Mr. Hampden, 
who remained. 

Such was my first interview with the afterwards 
famous author of “Paradise Lost,” a poem so grand 
that its fame must extend throughout the world. I 
afterwards read with wonder those august verses, and 
thought of the long-haired young author. His “ Co- 
mus” and “L’Allegro” and “II Penseroso” pleased 
me even more. The latter, published a few years after- 
wards, have a singular charm for me. In reading them, 
even now, a delightful freshness exhales from them ; I 
fall to dreaming under the influence of that exquisite 
music, and forget the bitterness of the political partisan 
in my admiration of the sublimest of the English poets. 


78 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN, 


XVIII. 

A MOONLIGHT COLLOQUY, AND WHAT FOLLOWED IT. 

I returned to Whitehall; and on the same night 
occurred an incident which revealed to me the secret 
springs of one of those events which overturn mon- 
archies. 

It was nearly midnight, and I was passing beneath 
the trees of St. James’s Park, near the palace, when 
the figures of two persons approached, and by the 
bright moonlight I could see that they were in ani- 
mated conversation. 

“I swear to your majesty that I speak upon sure 
information !” said the voice of Lord Digby. I recog- 
nized it without difficulty, though the speaker was 
greatly moved. 

“ ’Tis impossible!” replied the voice of the king, 
which was equally unmistakable. ‘ ‘ Impeach the queen ? 
Wherefore? ’Twould be too infamous and absurd, 
Digby!” 

“ Infamous? Yes, your majesty ! But absurd?” 

“ Have they aught against her?” 

The other was silent. 

“Speak!” the king said. “Whereon can impeach- 
ment of her majesty rest?” 

“Will your majesty permit me to speak without 
ceremony?” 

“Yes; speak plainly! You rack me, Digby! My 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


79 

heart sinks. Speak ! How and why should these people 
impeach my wife ?’ ’ 

“ Her majesty is a papist, sire.” 

“ Content ! — but that is naught. What more?” 

“ She is striving to convert her husband !” 

“’Tis false! She has never attempted any such 
thing !” 

“They profess to believe it, no less, your majesty.” 

“They will profess to believe anything to my preju- 
dice or hers! Aught more?” 

“They declare that your alleged attacks on the 
privileges of parliament are in consequence of her 
majesty’s arguments, and from the fact that you cannot 
resist her appeals. ’ ’ 

“False! false! All false, Digby! Woe to these 
slanderers !” 

“They are powerful, your majesty.” 

“I will show them that I too am powerful.” 

“ Beware, sire ! Let an humble subject speak plainly. 
They will crush you !” 

“Crush me? ’Tis well, Digby. I will save them 
the trouble by first crushing them!” 

I had drawn aside to permit the king and his com- 
panion to pass. Lost in the shadow, they did not per- 
ceive me ; but I could see the king’s expression of wrath, 
and Digby’s unconcealed joy, as the moonlight fell 
upon their faces. 

“ I will strike at the leaders in this infamous scheme 1” 
exclaimed the king. “ I have the names here in my 
heart!” He struck his breast as he spoke. “From 
this moment I swear to strike them without mercy !” 

As the king spoke, he passed beyond hearing, and a 


8o 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


moment afterwards the two figures had disappeared in 
the palace.* 

Shall I relate what followed the incident in St. James’s 
Park? This is not a history of the reign of King 
Charles I . ; I would not repeat what is contained in the 
great histories, — above all, would not discuss the squab- 
bles of king and parliament. But a few words are 
necessary here, to explain after-events. It was King 
Charles who defied his enemies first, and in a manner 
most weak and imprudent. 

In brief words, his majesty sent one of his household 
to prefer a charge of treason against five prominent 
members of the parliament. On the next day he de- 
manded the persons of the five ; and, the parliament 
refusing to surrender them, the king proceeded at the 
head of an armed guard to arrest them in person. 

It is said that the gods make lunatics of those whom 
they are going to destroy. His majesty was acting 
illegally, he was also acting madly. Time never was 
when a king of England was an irresponsible despot, 
unchecked by any law and competent to seize upon 
the persons of its representatives. As yet, however, 
respect for the kingly authority was great ; and it was 
thought best by the parliament that the five members 
should escape. Time was given them for this by the 
intrigues of Lady Carlisle, the black-eyed Venus whom 
I had seen at Hampton Court. The king had just left 

* Lingard, the parliamentary historian, alludes to the proposed im- 
peachment of the queen. He says, “ Some hints had been dropped 
by the patriots of an impeachment of the queen ; the information was 
conveyed to Charles, and urged him to the hazardous expedient of 
arresting the six members.” — EDITOR. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 8 1 

Whitehall, and the queen in great agitation sat, watch 
in hand, with her eyes on the dial. The king had 
indicated an hour when — should no “ill news” come 
from him — all would be well ; and, the hour having 
arrived, the queen exclaimed to Lady Carlisle, — 

“Rejoice with me, for at this hour the king is, as I 
have reason to hope, master of his realm ; for Pym and 
his confederates are arrested before now !” 

The words are said to have caused Lady Carlisle to 
give a great start. She was a friend, secretly, of the 
enemies of the king. She invented some pretext now 
to leave the queen’s apartment ; hastened out, sent a 
messenger to warn the threatened members, and, owing 
to delay in the movements of the king, the messenger 
arrived in time. 

When his majesty entered the Parliament House, the 
birds had thus flown. A violent scene ensued. Loud 
cries of “ Privilege ! privilege !” rang through the hall. 
The Speaker knelt to his majesty, but refused to pledge 
himself for the delivery of the accused, and the king 
retired, discomfited. 

With this crow-bar King Charles I. overturned his 
throne. London suddenly blazed with rage at the 
attempted arrests. Great crowds escorted the members 
of parliament to the hall ; the king retired ingloriously 
to Hampton Court, and from thence sent word that 
he would abandon the prosecution of the members and 
respect parliamentary privileges! 

Oh, inglorious ! He was brave, and not deficient in 
intelligence, — what made him thus act with such folly 
and timidity? ’Twas not conviction of having acted 
wrongfully: his majesty believed in his kingly pre- 
P* 


82 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


rogative always. Was it the spirit of intrigue, the 
intent to temporize ? 

A great sovereign, observant of the right, would 
never have begun that bad business. A resolute despot 
would have marched upon the malcontents and crushed 
them then and there. King Charles did neither. He 
struck the tiger with his whip, and, when the animal 
turned snarling, retreated before him. From that mo- 
ment he was doomed, and was king only in name. 

This occurred wellnigh half a century since. King 
and parliament are gone. I, an exile, am only musing 
and thinking, “How strange was all that !” 

The royal family had all gone back to Hampton 
Court ; and the queen was in despair, it is said, when 
she learned that her indiscretion had prevented the 
arrest of the members. Madame de Motteville, whom 
I knew well afterwards, — her majesty’s intimate friend, 
—told me of the meeting of Charles and his queen 
after the attempted arrest. The queen threw herself 
into the king’s arms, and with passionate tears upbraided 
herself for her fault. In narrating the scene to Madame 
de Motteville, she stopped, choked with tears, and 
sobbed out praises of her husband’s unaltered tender- 
ness. “Never did he treat me with less kindness,” 
she faltered out, “than before it happened, though I 
had ruined him.” 

Events from this time rushed onward. It soon came 
to be whispered through the palace that her majesty 
was going on a visit to Holland, with the design of 
conducting the princess-royal, then a child, to her 
child-spouse the Prince of Orange. 

The parliament had issued a circular to the nobility, 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


83 


calling on them to arm and prevent the king from 
withdrawing farther than Hampton Court. Strange 
to say, however, they scarcely opposed the projected 
journey of the queen to Holland. 

Before the queen’s departure a singular event oc- 
curred, and this event I shall now relate. 


XIX. 

THE STING OF AN INSECT. 

I was posted one night on guard in the anteroom 
to the queen’s apartments, and, having been up very 
late on the preceding night, leaned against the door- 
way, half dozing. 

From this condition I was aroused by a light footfall 
approaching along the corridor ; and a moment after- 
wards the dwarf, Sir Geoffrey Hudson, made his ap- 
pearance, laboring under great excitement. 

My brother’s espousal of his cause had made him the 
friend of the whole Cecil family ; and, seeing me, he 
now stopped, and began to speak in a piping voice, 
which indicated both agitation and anger. 

“I have discovered who did all the mischief,” he 
squeaked. 

“What mischief?” I asked. 

“Warning the parliament people that his majesty 
was coming to arrest them.” 

“Ah? Tell me.” 

The dwarf looked guardedly around. Then he made 


84 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


signs that I should sit down on a bench under one of 
the windows. I did so ; and then the manikin mounted 
with surprising agility to the sill of the window, where 
his position enabled him to lean down close to my 
ear. 

“ Coftangry !” he whispered. 

“Is it possible? One of the queen’s guardsmen! 
What object ” 

“ He was the tool only.” 

“The tool of whom?” 

“ My lady Carlisle.” 

I stared at the small speaker. “ It is not possible !” 
I said. 

“ I know it !” was the venomous ejaculation. “ Coft- 
angry is mad about her ladyship. Her eyes have turned 
his head. I saw them together, whispering hurriedly 
in one of the corridors, that day his majesty went to 
the parliament. I saw Coftangry hasten out, — lost sight 
of him, — but this evening discovered all.” 

“ In what manner?” 

“ I was lying beneath a couch in the antechamber to 
the blue-room. Her ladyship came in with Coftangry, 
and sat down on the couch. I heard every word they 
said ; he is mad about her ; and she made him betray 
the queen !” 

It was impossible to doubt the sincerity of the 
speaker. He was passionately in earnest; his eyes 
blazed, and his small form trembled with excitement. 

“ An ugly affair !” I said ; “ and I will take prompt 
action in the matter. The queen’s guardsmen shall 
not rest under the imputation of harboring a spy and 
traitor in their ranl^s.” 


tTER MAJESTY THE QUEEtf. 

“No,” said the dwarf; “you must promise me to 
leave the affair in my hands.” 

“ In your hands?” 

“ Yes. I exact that, Mr. Cecil, — for the moment, at 
least. ’ * 

“ What course have you determined upon?” 

“ That is my affair.” 

“ I cannot make you any promise,” I said. “This 
concerns her majesty.” 

The dwarf knit his brows, and reflected for a moment. 
At last he said, — 

“When were you posted here, Mr. Cecil?” 

“ An hour and a half ago. But why do you ask?” 

“ What 4$ the length of your watch?” 

“ Two hours. But how can that interest you ?” 

“It interests me greatly,” was the cool reply of the 
dwarf. “And, as I have now told you all, Mr. Cecil, 
I will bid you good-evening.” 

As he uttered the words, he sprang to the floor with 
his habitual agility, made me a bow full of grave cour- 
tesy, and then hurried off in the direction of the 
ground-floor of the palace. I looked after him in some 
astonishment, unable to make out his design, and re- 
flecting upon the tenor of his statement. 

So the subtle and brilliant glances of my lady Car- 
lisle had made Coftangry a traitor ! Lured on by hei 
caressing eyes and ruby lips, he had sold faith and 
honor ! I was still meditating on this piteous exhibi- 
tion of a man’s weakness, when footsteps approached. 
It was the new guard coming to relieve me ; and I 
was soon free to return to the guard-room. 

As I descended and approached the door, I heard a 

8 


§6 her majesty the queeh. 

loud altercation. I hastened on, entered the guard- 
room, and saw Coftangry and the dwarf facing each 
other, both raging. 

“You are a traitor! Are you a coward too?” 
came in piping tones, full of wrath, from Hudson. 

“ Is this pigmy to continue thus to insult the queen’s 
guardsmen?” exclaimed Coftangry. 

“This pigmy,” hissed the dwarf, “is as well-born 
as you are ! — is, moreover, a belted knight, which you 
are not, and defies you to single combat !” 

The words raised a storm in the guard-room; but 
a large majority sided with the dwarf. 

“ He is right !” cried one. “Beware how you re- 
fuse him, Coftangry. You will dishonor her majesty, 
who has knighted him.” 

The tumult continued for fifteen minutes longer; 
then everything grew quiet. The dwarf had carried 
his point. On the next morning at daylight, Coft- 
angry was to meet him in a secluded part of the park, 
each on horseback with pistols, in order to equalize 
the combatants. 

I was a witness of the singular scene which duly fol- 
lowed this arrangement. 

Just as the first streak of dawn was seen above the 
great oaks of the Hampton Court park, Coftangry 
and Sir Geoffrey Hudson, his diminutive opponent, 
made their appearance on horseback at the retired spot 
selected for the encounter. Each was accompanied by 
one friend ; and a number of the Guardsmen who had 
followed them formed a group near. 

The countenance of Coftangry wore a satirical and 
mocking expression, which, added to his sallow com- 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 87 

plexion, did not render him a very attractive spectacle. 
He seemed to regard the whole affair as an “excellent 
jest/’ and, drawing his cloak around him, took his 
place with an air of mingled amusement and disdain. 

The dwarf was cool and determined. His eyes were 
fixed upon his adversary with an expression of cold 
menace. He wore a light velvet cloak, from beneath 
which protruded his minute sword ; over his brow 
drooped a plumed hat. It seemed impossible that his 
short legs could enable him even to retain his seat on 
the big horse he rode ; but he did retain it, holding 
the reins and directing the animal with the ease of a 
perfect horseman. 

In five minutes all was arranged, and the adversaries 
were placed near and facing each other. Then the 
word was given, and the dwarf drew his pistol. 

Coftangry, with a short laugh, drew — a squirt. 

“ Here is the weapon I have chosen to meet this 
chivalric paladin!” he said. “I feared lest a pistol- 
bullet might prove a cannon-ball to this sparrow !” 

He raised the squirt, and, uttering a second laugh, 
aimed at the dwarf. 

“ Ready !” he said. 

A flush of rage rose to the face of Hudson. 

“Are you a gentleman, or a clodhopper?” he 
snapped. “ Or simply a coward ?” 

“ Come on !” cried Coftangry, with feigned laughter; 
though it was easy to see how much the dwarfs words 
stung him. 

The dwarf looked towards his adversary’s friend, 
and, lowering his pistol, pointed with the other hand to 
Coftangry. The gesture was full of such contempt that 


88 HER MAJESTY THE QUEEtf. 

Coftangry turned pale. The words of the Guardsman 
appearing as his second in the duel did not soothe him 
much. 

“If you wish any further aid of mine, Mr. Coft- 
angry, “ said his friend, “you must conform to the 
rules of combat, and meet Sir Geoffrey Hudson with 
the weapons of a gentleman.” 

“I have no pistol with me !” growled Coftangry, in 
reply. 

The dwarf threw back his cloak, and drew a second 
pistol from his belt. He took both by the handles, — 
they were small, but exquisitely chased and mounted, — 
and, holding them out, said, — 

“Here are pistols! Take one; I will take the 
other.” 

The words ended all further parley. It was not 
possible to make longer any opposition. A moment 
afterwards, Coftangry and the dwarf were sitting their 
horses at the distance of fifteen paces from each other, 
pistol in hand, and awaiting the word. 

It was given, and a simultaneous report was heard, — 
the crack of a popgun it seemed, — accompanied by a 
puff of Smoke. 

The dwarf remained erect, curbing his startled horse 
with a firm hand. Coftangry reeled, dropped his rein, 
and fell from his horse. 

All ran to him, and raised him up. The bullet had 
pierced his heart. Five minutes afterwards, whilst 
attempts were being made to stanch his wound, his 
head fell back, a gurgling sound escaped from his lips, 
and he expired. 

Such was one of the most singular events I have 


her majesty the queen. g 9 

ever witnessed ; and I have related all the details to 
afford some idea of the strange complexion of affairs 
at that epoch. The queen had taken into her house- 
hold, as a plaything, this pigmy of only two feet in 
height : a full-grown man had mimicked him ; he had 
demanded satisfaction for the wrong ; pistols fired from 
horseback had equalized giant and pigmy ; and it was 
the bullet from the dwarf’s pistol which penetrated 
the full-grown man’s heart. Such, I repeat, was this 
strange event, — not the result of my fancy, but an 
actual occurrence during the reign of his majesty 
Charles I. The moral, I think, is, Do not laugh at 
misfortune, and beware of the smallest insects, if their 
sting is mortal ! 

The death of Coftangry created a great excitement 
in the palace for two or three days. But there was no 
one to punish. The dwarf had set spurs to his horse, — 
if he wore spurs, — and disappeared. His unfortunate 
victim was buried, and the event passed from all minds. 
Memory of the dead is short in this world : — at courts, 
I think, it is shortest of all 1 


9 <> 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


XX. 


GOOD-BY, SWEET-HEART ! 

The queen’s arrangements then in rapid progress for 
her journey to Holland contributed largely to banish 
the fate of Coftangry from all minds. 

This proposed journey plunged me into veritable 
despair. It was understood speedily that her Guards 
would not accompany the queen, — that this body of 
tlite, under Lord Bernard Stuart, would remain with 
the king. I was a member of the Guards, and must 
continue with them, and thus for weeks, months, 
years, it might be, would not see — Frances Villiers ! 

I fancy I see one of my grandchildren — some little 
maiden of seventeen, let us say — smiling archly as 
she reads the above words in her grandpapa’s memoirs. 
She will have seen, perchance, the old gentleman who 
pens them, and will wonder if ever the flowers of 
love bloomed under the snow of his hair. Yes, little 
one ! that snow had not yet fallen at the time I write 
of : my life was in its springtime ; the first violets 
bloomed. I would have plucked all the world con- 
tained, could I have done so, to make a bouquet du 
corsage for Frances Villiers ! 

So I was really in despair when I thought I should 
see her no more for a long time : her tranquil smile 
which greeted me every day had become a sort of 
necessity of my life. Harry, too, seemed full of gloom. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 




“ Hang it, Ned,” he said, “how will I be able to 
sustain life, my boy, without a glance now and then 
from the eyes of the fair Frances?” And it was only 
long afterwards, as the reader will see, that I came to 
understand what was hidden under that jest. 

Thus I moped, seeing my sunshine about to leave 
me; but ’tis certain that parting must take place in 
life, and I summoned all my philosophy. I think Miss 
Frances saw the gloom on the faces Of the two Cecils ; 
but she said nothing, remained quite calm, and one 
morning entered the coach which followed that bearing 
her majesty towards Dover, with entire composure, and 
naught more than her habitual composed sweetness. 

The queen was thus en route for Holland, and King 
Charles, surrounded by a party of noblemen and 
followed by the queen’s Guards, escorted the coach on 
horseback. 

The journey was to be marked by one or two inci 
dents, — affecting both his majesty and my humble 
self. 

As the cortege came in sight of Dover, where a 
vessel awaited the queen, a party of horsemen was 
seen rapidly approaching from the direction of Lon- 
don. As the queen descended from her chariot on 
the jetty, the horsemen reached the spot, and a tall 
cavalier of dignified appearance, the leader apparently, 
dismounted, gave his bridle to a man, and approached 
the king, doffing his plain round hat as he did so. 

His majesty looked at the new-comer over his shoulder, 
and with an expression which indicated little satisfac- 
tion. The dialogue which followed was brief and to 
the point. 




HER MAJESTY THE QUEEK 


“Sir William Strickland, I believe? Your good 
pleasure, sir?” 

The tone of the king was imperious, haughty, and 
not a little disdainful. 

“Your majesty will first permit me,” returned the 
gentleman, “ to assure your majesty of my very pro- 
found respect.” 

The king made a curt movement of the head. 

“ You come on the part of my parliament, doubt- 
less, sir?” 

“Yes, your majesty.” 

“Your errand, sir?” 

“A very painful one, your majesty. I am com- 
missioned by the parliament to beg that before the 
departure of her majesty the queen for Holland, the 
law excluding the bishops from sitting as peers in the 
House of Lords may receive your majesty’s approval.” 

The king’s brow darkened more and more. 

“In other words, unless I permit this iniquitous 
scheme to become a law of the realm, the parliament 
will not permit her majesty to depart for Holland ?’ ’ 

Sir William Strickland was silent. 

“Is it not so, sir?” exclaimed the king, with rising 
anger. 

“I am unfortunate in being the bearer of a mes- 
sage displeasing to your majesty,” was the diplomatic 
reply. 

A flush of anger and disdain rose to the face of the 
king. Around him, all faces wore a similar expression. 

The king hesitated. At that moment her majesty 
touched his arm, drew him aside, and for some minutes 
spoke with him in animated tones. The result was 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


93 


that the king, with an expression of suppressed dis- 
pleasure, turned to Sir William Strickland, and said, — 

“Be it as you and the parliament will, sir. You 
have doubtless the required form for the passage of the 
act by commission ?” 

Sir William bowed low, and, drawing a paper from 
his breast, presented it with profound respect to the 
king. As he did so, a clerkish-looking individual of 
his party approached with pen and ink, which the 
emissary presented to the king with the same air of 
deference. 

The king rapidly, and with a sort of flirt of the 
pen, affixed his signature to the paper, and Sir William 
received it from his hands with a low bow. The king 
scarcely acknowledged it, — turned his back, — and a few 
minutes afterwards the party of parliamentarians were 
riding away. 

“ So much for that,” murmured the king. “ Events 
seem hastening.” 

With these words, he seemed to dismiss the whole 
scene from his mind. In half an hour her majesty, 
with the princess and her suite, was on board the vessel 
which was to bear her away, and the king and queen 
parted from each other on the deck with a long em- 
brace. The eyes of the queen were filled with tears, 
and the king’s face flushed with emotion. A last em- 
brace was exchanged ; the king went ashore again ; the 
vessel spread her sails. 

The king, however, seemed unable to tear himself 
from the sight of the queen. He sat his horse, 
gazing at the vessel upon whose deck the queen stood 
erect, waving her handkerchief; and thjs salute he 


94 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


returned by raising and holding aloft his gray beaver, 
with its floating plume. The handkerchief continued 
to wave from the deck, and, as the course of the ship 
was along the shore, the king, surrounded by his noble- 
men and guards, rode along, keeping it in sight. In 
this manner his majesty passed over a distance of four 
leagues, ever keeping the ship in sight, and straining 
his eyes to see the white speck moving to and fro upon 
the deck. 

At last a fresh breeze sprung up, and the bark flew 
like a sea gull towards the open channel. From a lofty 
cliff, and motionless in the keen winter’s wind, the 
king looked his last. Slowly the vessel faded, — then 
it resembled a dark speck, — then it vanished. As it 
disappeared, the king drew a long and labored breath, 
let his head fall, and slowly turned his horse to retrace 
his steps. 

I shall always remember that scene ; and think to- 
day, as I thought then, that there is nothing more 
respectable than the faithful love of husband and wife. 
What are rank and power and wealth beside this? 
And all wandering loves, — how mean and poor they 
seem in presence of this beautiful and noble sentiment, 
on which I think the All-seeing smiles ! 

Doubtless King Charles I. committed terrible errors 
as a ruler ; but for all that he was a good husband. A 
court full of frail beauties could never induce him to 
turn his eyes from the wife God had given him, 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


95 


XXI. 

HOW I WAS COMPELLED FOR A TIME TO TAKE NO 
FURTHER PART IN PUBLIC AFFAIRS. 

An irritating incident followed close upon this pain- 
ful scene, and, as the reader will soon perceive, this 
incident seriously affected my own person. 

The king had just turned his horse’s head to ride 
back to London, when Sir William Strickland again 
came on at the head of his party of horsemen, and, 
reaching the spot, dismounted a second time, and ap- 
proached the king with the same air of deep respect. 

The eyes of the king filled with sudden fire. 

“ What now, sir ?” he exclaimed, in accents so abrupt 
and haughty that they resembled a blow struck. 

“Iam deeply pained to offend your majesty,” began 
Sir William Strickland. 

“A truce to words and ceremony!” rejoined the 
king. “You are not here, sir, as my friend or loyal 
subject. Your business, sir ! And I beg that you will 
dispatch it briefly, as we are not in the mood to be 
annoyed to-day.” 

The emissary bowed low again, and said, — 

“I would fain spare your majesty annoyance. 
Briefly, a courier reached me on my way back to Lon- 
don, bearing the paper I hold in my hand, which is 
addressed to your majesty.” 

The king caught the paper with a movement of rage 


9 6 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


almost. His eye ran over it : suddenly he crumpled 
it up and threw it upon the ground. 

“ Tell these people ’ ’ he began. Then he stopped, 

and seemed to realize how unbecoming his anger must 
appear. His eyes were fixed with a cold and haughty 
expression upon Sir William Strickland. 

“ Do you know the contents of that paper, sir?” he 
said. 

“I do not, your majesty.” 

“ It is a ‘ petition,’ — everything is a ‘ petition’ now, — 
in which the gentlemen of my parliament considerately 
ask that I will not deprive them of the charms of my 
company ; they will be in despair if I absent myself 
from London, and will be plunged into melancholy if 
I even remove the Prince Charles from them. Will I 
therefore, they say, ‘be pleased to reside nearer the 
metropolis, and not take the prince away from them’ ? 
It would afflict them, these tender-hearted gentlemen ! 
’Tis this that yonder paper contains, sir.” 

The emissary inclined his head before the royal dis- 
pleasure, but was silent. 

“ The meaning is simple !” added the king, with dis- 
dain in eye and lip. “ My good subjects of the parlia- 
ment design making me and my son prisoners. They 
have assailed my prerogative, they would lay hands on 
my person. I am intractable, they would render me 
docile. ’Tis an ingenious device, sir, — is it not? — this 
humble ‘petition’ of my humble subjects?” 

Sir William Strickland bowed profoundly ; but I 
could see from the obstinate expression of his counte- 
nance that he was unmoved. 

"You 4o pot reply, sir/’ said the king, in th$ 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


97 

same tone. “ You do not think the device ingenious, 
then?” 

“ Your majesty will pardon me for declaring that I 
regard it as natural.” 

“That is the opinion of Sir William Strickland, 
Baronet?” 

A slight color tinged the face of Sir William at these 
words. With sudden embarrassment he bowed low, 
but made no reply. The king gazed at him for a 
moment in silence, and then said, coolly, 

“I will reply to this petition within three days, sir. 
Does that suffice, or am I compelled to respond here 
and now?” 

“That will assuredly answer every purpose; and I 
now beg to take my leave of your majesty.” 

With these words, Sir William Strickland, who had 
begun to betray some signs of discomposure at the 
threatening faces around him, made the king a pro- 
found inclination, and, mounting his horse, rode 
away. 

The king gazed after him for a moment, and said to 
a nobleman of his suite, — 

“So pass away one’s old friends to the enemy’s 
standard ! ’Tis scarce two years since I made this gen- 
tleman a baronet : I would not upbraid him with it, 
but he had the grace to blush as he remembered it. 
Well, a truce to all this. Things hasten more than 
ever ! Before three days have passed ’ ’ 

He suddenly stopped, and the sentence remained 
unfinished. Some scruple, if not some secret resolve, 
seemed to check him, — the latter, it appeared. 

“That message to the parliament may involve the 

E 9 


98 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


appearance of trick,” he muttered. “In three days, I 
said. The message must be modified.” 

He turned quickly to an officer of the Guard. 

“ Captain Hyde, take two or three gentlemen of the 
Guard, and ride after Sir William Strickland. Say on 
my part that I will make a speedy reply — use those words 
— to the petition of the parliament, if it be not made 
in three days.” 

Captain Hyde bowed low, and turned to select two 
or three of the Guard. I caught his eye, and he nodded ; 
then he indicated one other. A moment afterwards 
we were all riding at full speed after Sir William Strick- 
land, whose party was visible on the crest of a hill in 
our front. 

The guardsmen of the queen possessed fine horses 
and were hard riders. We went on at a pace which 
would soon have borne us over the distance separating 
us from Sir William Strickland, but this very rapidity 
defeated our object: the emissary seemed to suspect 
something, and also pressed forward at a rapid gallop. 

Thus it was that the affair became a chase. The king 
had followed us with the rest of his suite, and Sir 
William now plainly regarded the aspect of things as 
hostile. The war had begun ! — the royal forces were 
pressing the retreating representatives of parliament ! 

The speed of the Guardsmen’s horses at last enabled 
them to come up with the parliamentarians, — but I was 
not present at the scene : I was in fact unaware of my 
existence. My horse, a fine bay, had enabled me for 
some time to keep the lead of the pursuing party : an 
old fox-hunter, he went on at a thundering rush, when 
unfortunately a stone in the road caused him to stumble 


HER MAJESTY. THE QUEEN. 


99 

and fall. I rolled beneath him, his full weight fell 
upon me, and I dislocated my shoulder. 

I only remember thereafter that the king stopped 
beside me, and raised my head : there was a group 
around ; then I fainted. Half an hour afterwards I 
revived, and was dimly conscious that a surgeon was 
setting my shoulder. Then I fainted again — was aware 
that I was placed in a vehicle — the vehicle moved : 
when I opened my eyes next, I was lying on a couch in 
a lofty antechamber at Whitehall, and Harry was 
sitting beside me, holding my hand and gazing at me 
tenderly. 

“So, Ned,” he said, “here you are yourself at last 
again. How do you feel?” 

“ Badly, Harry ; but not so very badly. This is 
Whitehall ?” 

“Yes; we brought you here, the king’s affairs sum- 
moning him to London : arrived an hour since, just at 
sunset, and you were so weak that you were laid upon 
this couch. Better remain here, wrapped in your 
cloak, until morning : I will watch beside you. Mean- 
while, Dick is riding post to Cecil Court to bring the 
coach. ’Twill doubtless come speedily, and you must 
go thither till your recovery.” 

As Harry spoke, his name was pronounced at the 
door : he was absent from my side a moment, and then, 
returning, said, with some annoyance, — 

“ I must go on post for two hours, Ned. Then I 
will return to you. Compose yourself to sleep : no one 
will disturb you in this part of the palace ; and the 
moon through the oriel yonder will be sufficient 
light.” 


( 


100 her majesty the queen. 

“ Content, Harry; I will sleep,” I said. 

And, drawing my cloak around me with my well 
arm, I closed my eyes. 


XXII. 

THE PORTRAIT OF STRAFFORD. 

Nearly two hours had passed, I think, after Harry’s 
disappearance, when I was aroused from my dreamy 
half-slumber by footsteps on a side corridor leading to 
the anteroom in which I lay. A moment afterwards 
the door opened, a figure slowly entered, and this 
figure paused in front of a portrait upon which the 
moonlight fell in a flood of light. A second glance 
told me that the new-comer was King Charles. He 
was clad in a dressing-gown of velvet ; his head, with 
its long curling hair, was bare ; and the pale, melan- 
choly face, with an unhappy light in the dark eyes, was 
turned towards the portrait, upon which the king fixed 
a long and absorbed look. So intense indeed was that 
gaze that my eyes followed it and fell upon the portrait. 

It represented a man past middle age, and the face 
was an extraordinary one. Dark, harsh features ; eyes 
full of dauntless courage, mingled with a sort of stern 
severity, and mournful foreboding, as it were, of some 
approaching calamity; lips upon which were written an 
unshrinking resolve, a will all iron ; and in the poise 
of the grand head something majestic, calm, and im- 
posing ; — such was the portrait which the moonlight fell 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEH. 


lot 


upon, and at which the king now gazed, standing 
motionless as a statue in front of it. 

At least ten minutes passed, and not a muscle of the 
king’s figure stirred. Then I saw his bosom heave, a 
low groan issued from his lips, and he raised one hand 
to his eyes, as though to brush away tears. 

Whose was this portrait which had aroused such 
terrible emotion ? for the tears of kings are terrible, 
and burn as they fall. I knew not, but was soon to 
know. The king was still looking with the same absorb- 
ing gaze upon the picture, when another figure appeared 
at the door, remained there for a moment motionless, 
then entered the apartment, treading noiselessly, and 
stood beside the king. The shadow of the new-comer — 
a man — was thrown upon the wall. The king started, 
and turned with a wild look towards the man ; then, 
drawing a long, deep breath, Charles exclaimed, in a 
broken voice, — 

“ Oh, Digby ! methought that I am unnerved 

to-night, and this face ” 

He turned again towards the portrait. 

“The eyes haunt me,” he murmured, “the mourn- 
ful eyes of the man I sent to his death ! Strafford ! 
Strafford ! Would to God I had died before I grew a 
coward and allowed cozening voices to persuade me to 
your death !” 

The king pressed his thin white hand to his forehead 
as he spoke, and, interrupting Lord Digby, who essayed 
to speak, added, in the same broken voice, — 

“ There are deeds that brand men as cowards in his- 
tory. I thought myself brave once, but I signed that 
terrible warrant ! It was forced from me, they tell me 
9 * 


102 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


to console me. I resisted, protested, refused, they say, 
but I signed at last ! Well, that day, Digby, was the 
blackest of my life. I was a forsworn gentleman ! I 
was a king, and I acted as a coward ! I had the power 
to say no, and I said yes. Strafford was my friend, — 
faithful unto the death ; and my return for all was to 
send him to that death with my own hand !” 

The speaker’s emotion was overpowering as he 
uttered these words. He covered his face with his 
hands, and sobbed like a child. His frame shook. A 
shudder passed through my own frame as I looked and 
listened. 

Lord Digby seemed to experience the same emotion, 
and could scarce speak. 

“ I beseech your majesty,” he said at last, “ to cease 
this fearful talk, and retire from this apartment. What 
evil spirit counseled your majesty to come hither?” 

“ No evil spirit, Digby, but the conscience in my 
breast,” murmured the king. 

“Your majesty exaggerates the part borne by your- 
self in the death of Strafford. That signature to the 
death-warrant was forced by enemies ; the very bishops 
counseled it : the good of the realm was paramount.” 

“No good comes out of evil : 'twas cruel cowardice, 
Digby, and has borne its fruits.” 

“ Cowardice! that word again? Who will dare call 
your majesty a coward?” 

“History!” 

The word was uttered with a solemnity that thrilled 
through me. 

“Let us banish all glosses and party passion from 
this question,” said the king, gloomily. “For the 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


103 


opinions of this generation I care little, esteeming them 
but lightly. My reign is stormy and divides all minds ; 
royal prerogative and democratic power are at issue : 
wonder not, then, that my bitter enemies charge me 
with untold crimes. I am a tyrant, a violator of my 
word, the author of the fearful Irish massacre ; I am a 
despot* reigning by fraud and falsehood and duplicity ; 
of all the monsters of history, Charles I. of England is 
the most monstrous. And these charges, Digby, are 
so bitterly insisted upon that all men’s minds will soon 
be poisoned against me. Well, I care not. I never 
violated my word of gentleman yet. I claimed, as to 
tonnage and the rest, what I thought my just and im- 
memorial prerogative only. When I heard of the Irish 
murders, I shuddered like the most protestant of my 
subjects. In my own heart I am guiltless of all this; 
but history will bring against me another charge, and 
of this I am guilty ! ’ ’ 

He spoke in a low tone, motioning to Lord Digby 
to be silent. 

“I am guilty of that man’s death,” he said, raising 
his hand slowly, and pointing to the picture. “He 
worked for me, fought for me, served me faithfully. 
And I, who should have defended him, abandoned him 
to his enemies. Of fraud, falsehood, tyranny, I am 
guiltless : the charges pass me by as the idle wind. Of 
Strafford’s blood I am guilty ! When that head, that 
should have worn the crown, fell on Tower Hill, 
Charles, the first of the name, of England, was for- 
sworn ! ’ ’ 

I could see in the moonlight that the king’s fore- 
head was covered with drops of cold sweat. He had 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEH. 


104 

mastered himself by an immense effort, but the tears 
and agony of the outer man a moment before seemed, 
so to speak, to have struck inward. The wound bled 
internally and was past cure. 

The king continued to gaze for a long time upon 
the portrait. At last his lips opened, and he muttered, 
in tones almost inaudible, — 

“ Farewell, Strafford ! ’Twere better to have lost my 
crown than to have consented to your death ! But the 
deed is done. I carry in my breast an ineradicable 
remorse ! Smiles and happiness are not for me any 
longer on this earth ! Yet I go to my work. I am 
king, and dare not shrink. You are no longer beside 
me, with your great brain and fearless soul, to be my 
strong tower of defense ! I go on my path alone. 
Farewell ! Something tells me that I will ere long 
rejoin you.” 

As he uttered these words, the king went towards the 
door, but, as though the great rugged head of the por- 
trait, with its dark eyes, still fascinated him, looked 
over his shoulder at it as he moved away. 

I shall never forget the face of the king as I saw it 
then in the moonlight. It was deadly pale, and in the 
eyes was that settled gloom which is seen in all his 
portraits. 

A moment afterwards he was gone with Lord Digby, 
and the steps died away on the corridor. 


Her majesty the qoeem 


105 


XXIII. 

I RETURN TO CECIL COURT. 

On the morning succeeding this strange scene, I was 
removed to a bedchamber in the palace, and three 
days afterwards my father arrived in the family chariot, 
and I was borne from my couch to it. 

My father followed ; Harry bade me an affectionate 
farewell ; and then the old coach, with its four horses, 
moved slowly away towards Cecil Court. 

As I left the palace, I observed something which 
forcibly arrested my attention. In the great court- 
yard were drawn up the entire company of the queen’s 
Guard, with the servants in rear ; and near the great 
entrance stood grooms holding three horses, completely 
equipped, — one of which I knew to be the favorite 
riding-horse of the king. About the horses, the Guards- 
men, their retainers, everything and everybody, there 
was something which indicated a long journey rather 
than a brief ride. 

I was still gazing back through the window of the 
chariot at the line of Guardsmen, armed and ready, 
when a great shout arose in front, and I turned in the 
direction of the sound. The spectacle was striking. 
As far as the eye could see, the street was crammed with 
a great multitude, and in the centre of the thorough- 
fare moved a procession, first of men and then of 
women, — a procession strange, wild, fierce, with in 


106 HER MAJESTY THE QC/EEM. 

flamed faces, violent gestures — moving furies. As I 
afterwards discovered, they were the guild of porters, 
the watermen of the Thames, beggars, — then forming a 
distinct guild ; and the women were from the markets, 
brawny, masculine persons, with bare arms and furious 
visages, clad in little better costume than their non- 
descript associates. All were marching to the Parlia- 
ment House to offer their “ petitions/ * 

For a moment, it seemed that the chariot and the 
head of the great column would come in conflict. The 
coachman, directed by my father, drew to one side, 
however, — we were about to avoid the anticipated 
collision, — when one of the multitude, uttering a 
curse, caught the leaders by the bridle, and ordered 
the coachman to turn about and retrace his steps. 

“Why, the movement is impossible, friend,” said 
my father, in his calm voice. “ Should my horses 
attempt to turn, they would trample upon some one.” 

“Hear him!” shouted the man, one of the “beg- 
gars,” and clad in rags : “ he says he will trample upon 
the people ! Down with them !” 

The words aroused a sort of fury in the crowd. The 
horses were violently seized by the bridles ; a rush was 
made upon the ponderous coach, beneath which it 
shook, and half turned over ; in a moment it would have 
been broken to pieces, in all probability, and its inmates 
trampled under foot, when a commanding voice cried, 
“Hold!” and a plain-looking personage forced his 
way through the crowd. 

His very appearance seemed to produce a magical 
effect. 

“ Pym !” 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEH. 


107 


That name escaped from a hundred lips; and an 
instant afterwards, Mr. Pym by a simple gesture, it 
seemed, had cleared a space around the vehicle. 

“ Permit this gentleman to proceed on his way,” 
said Mr. Pym. “ No time is to be lost. Parliament 
awaits the worthy porters and the rest with their peti- 
tions.” 

A shout rose, and the crowd obeyed. The chariot 
was no longer molested, and Mr. Pym, whom I saw 
that day for the first and last time, disappeared. He 
died soon afterwards, and, * tis said, regretted his part 
in the excesses of the parliament. I know not ; but ’tis 
certain that he was disinterested in his course: he 
ruined his private fortune, and died poor. 

The coach proceeded then without further molesta- 
tion upon its way, and we had just reached the suburbs 
of London when the clatter of hoofs came behind 
and rapidly approached. I glanced through the win- 
dow : it was the Guardsmen, moving at a quick trot. 
At their head rode the king, and beside him the 
Princes Charles and James, afterwards Charles II. and 
James II. All were richly clad, — the boys like their 
father, — but they wore their swords, and moved steadily 
forward. 

A moment, and the cavalcade had passed, Harry 
waving his hand to me. We were now beyond the 
city, and, instead of towards Hampton Court, the king’s 
party turned northward. 

“Look! see the road his majesty takes, my son!” 
said my father. 

“ It is the road to ” 

“ York ! From this moment civil war begins !” 


lo8 HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN-. 

My father’s surmise was correct. Finding himself a 
virtual prisoner at Whitehall or Hampton Court, the 
king had resolved to free himself, had mounted his 
horse in front of Whitehall, and, riding past the 
great procession, which saluted him with threatening 
murmurs, had left London, to take refuge at York. 

I could take no part in the coming conflict. I was 
in bed at Cecil Court, pale, feeble, wholly powerless 
indeed, with a compound fracture of the shoulder- 
blade. 


BOOK II. 


I. 

DREAMS AT CECIL COURT. 

May of this troubled year 1642 came into the 
world, and found me still weak and feeble, — scarce 
able, indeed, to rise from my bed. As June approached, 
however, I grew somewhat stronger, began to move 
about the grounds, and slowly my hurt healed, — with 
which came a sense of exquisite enjoyment. 

I look back upon those summer days at Cecil Court 
as among the happiest of my life. Everything was 
charmingly fresh and buoyant; and my brief expe- 
rience of the bustle of courts had only intensified a 
sentiment always powerful in me, my love for the scenes 
and occupations of our English country life. 

It is certain that one is born with this sentiment and 
never loses it. I have seen all phases of life in my 
time, — the splendid court at Versailles, the rush and 
whirl of battle; have talked with dukes and count- 
esses, flirted the fans of court beauties, and taken part 
in royal processions : — all the fine pageant of the life of 
cities has passed before me, with waving banners, tri- 
umphant music, gorgeous silks and velvets, and jewels, 
and floating plumes ; but the whole has been for me a 
10 (109) 


no 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN, 


mere phantasmagoria or idle picture. What I liked 
better, and returned to with ever-increasing fondness, 
was the calm, untroubled life of the fields and forests, — 
the fields and forests of dear, ever-blessed England. 

It was these fresh scenes that I looked on now from 
the doorway of the old mansion of my fathers on the 
banks of the Avon. My illness seemed to have sharp- 
ened every faculty of enjoyment. Through my very 
pores I seemed to absorb the delightful influences of 
the vernal season. The songs of the birds in the elms, 
the daisies starring the turf, the skylark circling in 
the clouds, — all were sources of the sweetest happiness ; 
and I thrilled with an enjoyment which no words can 
express. 

The banks of the great river of Virginia, wherefrom 
I write, are beautiful, and Virginia is surely a charm- 
ing country; but, go where you will, friend, there is 
no place like home. A kind heaven made my home in 
Old England, — with green turf, and blooming hedges, 
and great trees, and cawing rooks swarming in and 
out of their nests on the summits of the lofty oaks, 
beside the little sheet of water on which some swans 
sailed serenely to and fro. Every spot around the old 
house had some family incident or memory of my own 
youth connected with it. There were the apple-trees 
where I had gathered the ripe red fruit in autumn; 
there was the spot in the hedge where I had hung with 
delight over the dove’s nest, with its two milk-white 
eggs; there was the crotch in the great apple-tree, 
where I had robbed the blackbird’s nest of its speckled 
treasure ; yonder the old pony had rolled me on the 
grass, when an idle urchin; at the quiet nook in the 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


Ill 


little stream where the grass hung over the shadowy 
pool, I had fished with a pin-hook and brought home 
in triumph my willow twig full of trout. Thus every 
locality was full of memories of my childhood. And 
boyhood had its souvenirs, no less vivid and delightful. 
The child had become a youth, and his heart had ex- 
panded amid these same scenes. The dreams of the 
great poets, the first vague thrills of romance, visions 
of beauties with great soft eyes and flowing hair, — 
these too were framed as it were by the green fields 
and woods around Cecil Court. Stealing off in those 
days to the banks of the little stream, I would throw 
my line in the water where the shadow of a great elm 
darkened the limpid surface, stretch myself on the 
turf, with the leaves whispering over me, and hour 
after hour of the long summer days would flit by like 
dreams, — or call them birds, sailing away on silent 
wings into the past. Then the blue sky was a wonder, 
with its fleecy cloud-ships; the far coo of the dove 
came to my ears like dreamy music ; the water rippled ; 
the rooks cawed in the tops of the great elms : — I was 
an English boy in my English home, filled in all my 
being with the exquisite happiness which comesf to me 
at least, only amid the dear scenes of Old England. 

As I pass away from this tranquil and charming 
period of my life, — I mean the days of my convales- 
cence, when the old scenes came back so vividly to 
me, and I was a boy again, — I lean my head upon my 
hand, muse idly as I remember, and again see the 
youth lying on the turf beneath the oak, reading 
Shakspeare’s dramas, and thinking of his own life’s 
drama, — brief as yet, and just begun. See, I have 


1 1 2 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


written that great name, Shakspeare, — and that, too, 
arouses many memories. The fame of my father’s 
neighbor and friend has grown quite gigantic now, but 
at that time he was much less renowned, — indeed, I 
might say, was little read. ’Tis so dangerous to one’s 
fame to be its cotemporary and move about in flesh 
and blood ! No man is great to those who talk with 
him and see him laugh and eat his dinner ! “ That a 

heaven-born genius?” you say: “absurd! ’tis only a 
man like myself!” So those who lived near Mr. 
Shakspeare were not so very enthusiastic about him. 
He was delightful company, my father said, and of 
excellent wit and humor ; made you laugh very often, 
and was altogether gay, and healthy, and natural ; but. 
he was surprisingly simple, seemed never to have 
imagined himself of much importance, thought little, 
it would appear, of his dramas, and preferred Stratford, 
where life was quite humdrum, to London, where 
they feted him and placed crowns upon his forehead. 
He came often to see my father at Cecil Court; 
laughed at everything and everybody, with a pleasant 
wit which did not wound ; took an interest in horses, 
and calves, and the very spring flowers ; smoked his 
tobacco-pipe, and never alluded to Macbeth or Hamlet 
in his life. 

Such was Will Shakspeare, as old neighbors still 
called him ; and I think my father was one of the few 
persons who divined the supreme genius of his writings. 
I was early impressed with their charm, and read him 
constantly: Titania and Miranda and Ophelia filled 
my early dreams. Thus the soul of Shakspeare grew 
as ’twere into my young life; and to-day, reading his 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


U3 


great dramas on the banks of the York, ’ tis not so much 
Elsinore and Duncan’s castle and Bosworth field I see, 
as Cecil Court in England, where, stretched on the 
turf, I looked upon all these visions ! 

Need I add that in that spring I saw other heroines 
in my dreams than Shakspeare’s ? Frances Villiers ! 
— I write that name, and leave the picture of the dis- 
consolate lover to be painted by the imagination. I 
will not dwell upon that. I grow old, alas ! and ro- 
mantic writing from an old gentleman would make his 
grandchildren laugh. ’Tis the grand privilege of 
youth to be absurd gracefully, — to go into raptures 
over Dulcinea, and talk nonsense as fresh and charm- 
ing as the passion it describes. Romance-writers share 
that privilege, ’tis true ; and were I composing a ro- 
mance, I might enlarge upon Frances Villiers and my 
hero’s feelings. If I were only writing the adven- 
tures of an imaginary Mr. Edmund Cecil ! Then the 
reader should be told everything : my hero’s heart 
should be laid bare, — his romantic passion should gush 
forth in burning words, — and behold, beloved reader, 
you would have a love-romance to amuse you. But 
this is my own life, you see. I grow ashamed when I 
speak of my own feelings : would you like a third per- 
son to be listening, whilst you poured out in some 
shady nook the passion of your heart into the ears of 
the chosen one ? ’Tis thus a sort of shame which seals 
my lips : enough that, asleep or awake, Frances was in 
my thoughts. 

The Cecils are light-hearted, and take trouble easily. 
What unhappiness lives forever? what year is all 
clouds? The sun will shine at length; and ’tis the 
jo* 


1 14 HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 

happy constitution of my blood to divine it behind 
the clouds, and think, “ ’Tis coming out soon !” 

So fled the spring and early summer. I have told you 
of my occupations and dreams at Cecil Court, and have 
not said one word of the troubles of the time. They 
did not find me indifferent ; and twice I mounted my 
horse to rejoin the king in the north, only to faint as 
often, be borne home, and find my illness renewed. I 
was thus forced to wait, but with impatience, through- 
out that fiery summer which burnt into all hearts. My 
quiet sports had become a weariness then, and more 
than one event occurred even in our country nook 
which indicated the tumult surging beyond. 

To that I pass now. I have pleased myself by speak- 
ing of those spring days at Cecil Court. It was but an 
eddy in the torrent : the stream soon swept me on 
again. 


II. 

A FRIEND OF THE KING. 

All at once, late in summer, came the intelligence 
that his majesty had erected his standard at Notting- 
ham, and that his faithful subjects were flocking to him 
by tens of thousands, to defend him against the “ con- 
spirators of the Parliament.” 

That version of affairs was somewhat glowing, as 
events of speedy occurrence sufficiently proved ; but 
everybody placed credence then in the hopeful pros- 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


IJ S 


pects of the king, and one of our neighbors, Sir Jervas 
Ireton by name, galloped over to congratulate my 
father. Sir Jervas was a large florid man, of portly 
and imposing appearance. He was not very popular,- 
but was prominent in the county. 

“Let us rejoice, Mr. Cecil,” he cried, shaking my 
father’s hand violently, with an up-and-down pump- 
handle movement, “that his sacred majesty is about to 
punish these pestilent knaves of the parliament !” 

My father remained unimpressed, and did not seem 
to share his visitor’s enthusiasm. 

“Is it so certain?” he said. “And after all, I 
think, Sir Jervas, there are men in the parliament who 
are not knaves.” 

Sir Jervas stared. “You astound me! Then you 
are one of the 1 Godly’ !” 

My father smiled. “I am for the king,” he said, 
“ but without believing him altogether in the right.” 

Thereat, Sir Jervas exploded, and made an oration 
of the most violent character. His majesty was a per- 
secuted saint ! the parliament was a gang of mis- 
creants ! every gentleman and honest man should 
adhere to his majesty, who would soon show the rascals 
that he had might as well as right on his side ! 

Then Sir Jervas puffed and rolled about, so to say, 
in the excess of his ardor. He remained an hour 
longer, blazing with loyalty and enthusiasm. Then he 
mounted his horse and galloped off to congratulate 
some other friend of the king. 

As time wore on, — miserably spent by the reader’s 
humble servant in longing for strength to mount his 
horse, — the royal prospects appeared day by day less 


Ii 6 her majesty the queen. 

promising. The number of the king’s troops was ascer- 
tained to be but small, his resources very limited, and 
the enthusiasm in his cause far from general. 

Followed thereupon a second visit from the worthy 
Sir Jervas, who was much more moderate in his expres- 
sions, and less convinced of the justice of the royal 
cause. He had been mistaken, he said, in regarding 
the merits of this unhappy misunderstanding as so 
wholly on the side of his majesty. The collision be- 
tween king and parliament was truly unfortunate ; the 
royal authority should be vindicated in its just extent , 
but he did not hesitate to say that a body of men so 
virtuous, intelligent, and law-abiding as the great Eng- 
lish parliament could not be guilty of wrong or in- 
justice. The public troubles were distressing — most 
distressing — to all good citizens, and it was to be hoped 
that his majesty would not persist in armed opposition to 
the peaceful execution of the laws of the realm. There- 
upon Sir Jervas Ireton bowed to my father, who had 
listened without a word, and rode away. As he disap- 
peared, my father raised his finger, pointed after him, 
and said to me, — 

“ There is a worthy personage who is going to turn 
his coat.” 

The reported forces of his majesty continued to 
dwindle. It began to appear that the parliament was 
the stronger ; and one morning we heard that Sir Jer- 
vas Ireton had gone to London on private business. 

“He is going to ascertain which side to take,” my 
father said. 

But I had no time to think now of Sir Jervas, who, 
as was shown afterwards, had been to London and re- 


tfER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


II? 


turned. At last I was strong enough to mount my 
horse, and prepared with ardor for my journey to join 
the Guardsmen again. 

I was soon ready. My valise was packed, my sword 
burnished, my pistols loaded, — for it was said that the 
country swarmed with friends of the parliament now, 
prepared to arrest all who attempted to join the royal 
forces, — and the evening preceding the day fixed on 
for my departure came. 

On this evening Sir Jervas Ireton reappeared at 
Cecil Court. 


III. 

A FRIEND OF THE PARLIAMENT. 

The worthy Sir Jervas had evidently imbibed an un- 
due amount of claret. His countenance was rubicund, 
and his eyes twinkled. Twice he called my father 
“ Cecil,” to that gentleman’s extreme disgust, and 
finally spoke of public affairs, up to that moment 
passed over sub si/entio, alluding to the king’s friends 
as “ malignants,” bent on the destruction of “the 
godly,” that is to say, the friends of the parliament. 

My father bowed, but only said, with provoking 
coolness, — 

“Well, sir?” 

“But the godly are more than a match for you ma- 
lignants !” cried the inebriated knight. 

(< You appear to take pleasure in bestowing nick* 


1 1 8 HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 

names on his majesty’s friends, sir,” said my father, 
coldly. 

“ Fight the devil with fire !” cried Sir Jervas, start- 
ing up. “ When a public ruler disregards all dictates 
of morality and honor, — when pledge after pledge is 
violated, and the liberty of the subject is in danger, — 
when papists and heretics and murderous emissaries are 
let loose upon an unoffending people, — what, I ask, sir, 
can be the course of the friends of law and order?” 

My father had remained calm until this moment. 
Now his face flushed ; but he controlled himself. 

“ ’Tis distasteful to me to hear his majesty denounced 
thus, Sir Jervas Ireton,” he said; “and you will pardon 
me for adding that I esteem his supporters to be as 
little ‘ malignant’ as your friends to be ‘ godly. ’ ’ ’ 

“A month, or two at most, will decide which is 
strongest !” 

“Ah!” my father said, with some disdain; “then 
’tis a question of strength, not right ! The strongest 
side is the right, — that to which all moral and prudent 
gentlemen should adhere !” 

Flushed with wine as he was, Sir Jervas understood, 
and was stung by, the taunt. 

“Your meaning, Mr. Cecil!” he said, red and irate. 

“I mean,” returned my father, “that I had sup- 
posed Sir Jervas Ireton to be a friend of his majesty. 
’Tis scarce a month since you lauded him as the 
model of a prince, and no insults were too gross for 
the parliament people in your estimation, sir. Mr. 
Hampden was a knave; — I was compelled to defend 
that high-minded gentleman against your denuncia- 
tions; Mr. Pym was a wretch; Mr. Cromwell a 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


119 

hypocritical fanatic ! Now these are the saints, and we 
of his majesty’s cause are the knaves ! Well, beware, 
Sir Jervas : there are friends of yours who will call you 
turncoat. I will not, sir, for you are beneath my 
roof!” 

The knight started up at this, and exclaimed, — 

“ I leave your roof, but give you some counsel first. 
The eyes of the godly are upon you ’ ’ 

My father was on his feet too. “In your person, 
doubtless, sir!” he said, in great wrath. “By heaven, I 
am not too old, ‘ malignant’ though I be, to defend 
my honor !” 

With three strides he reached an old sword hanging 
against the wall, and caught it down. 

“This for you, sir, and the rest of the ‘ godly,’ — at 
all hours, day or night !” 

I had risen, half indignant, half laughing at the 
drunken knight. 

“Don’t threaten him, sir,” I said to my father: “he 
won’t fight.” 

. And the truth of my words was speedily shown. 
Five minutes had not passed before Sir Jervas was out 
of the room and on horseback. 

‘ * The vulgar turncoat ! ’ ’ growled my father, replacing 
his old sword on the wall. “A few moments more, and 
I had spitted his carcase !” 

“ ‘ ’Tis better as it is,’ as Will Shakspeare says, 
sir,” I returned, laughing ; “ and even now this worthy 
may annoy you in many ways, from his connection 
with the ‘ godly ’ in the neighborhood. I shall not be 
present to aid you. I leave you at daylight. Now I 
will go with Cicely to take leave of everything.” 


i20 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN". 


I called my little sister, who had been my companion 
in all my rambles, and she came, with her pretty bright 
face smiling behind its curls. In her eyes, however* 
I could discern the traces of tears, and, as we walked 
under the great trees towards the stream, she said, in a 
low voice, — 

“ Oh, brother, why do you leave us? Must you go 
so soon?” 

“Yes, Cicely,” I said: “this is no time for the 
Cecils to prove laggards. I see you have been up- 
stairs crying; but come, smile again. There is your 
ardent admirer, Jervas Ireton the younger, coming to 
meet you through the trees.” 

Cicely pouted immensely, and said, “He is the 
most disagreeable little wretch ” 

And, as she spoke, the disagreeable little wretch ap- 
proached, smiling. It was, however, somewhat of an 
injustice to characterize the young gentleman thus : 
he was only weak. About twenty, with flaxen hair, 
washed-out blue eyes, a feeble smile, Mr. Jervas Ireton 
the younger was simply insignificant. He and Cicely 
were old playmates, as the Ireton estate joined Cecil 
Court, and the youth had long fancied himself con- 
sumed with an ardent passion for the maiden. 

“Oh, Cicely, and Mr. Ned,” he said, “I am very 
glad to see you, — that is ” 

He stammered, hesitated, and added, — 

“That is, I would like to see you alone, Cicely.” 

The damsel pouted hugely at these words, and 
said, — 

“What do you mean, Mr. Ireton?” 

“There it is!” cried the young gentleman, plunged, 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 121 

it seemed, into despair. “Mr. Ireton! The next 
thing it will be Captain Ireton I” 

Cicely stared. “You a captain !” 

“ Yes,” moaned the youthful warrior, in lugubrious 
tones, “ a real captain. Sir Jervas managed it. A 
real captain, with a new uniform, and just going away. 
So I came, — it was the only opportunity I will have, — 
you will not see me alone. Oh, Miss Cicely! don’t 
let me go without — without — without — one word, — 
that is ” 

Here “Captain” Ireton quite broke down, losing 
all his self-possession. Cicely’s head rose erect, and 
her eyes were full of fire. 

“Which side are you on, sir?” came suddenly from 
the maiden. 

“The — the — that is — I have no opinions myself 
of any consequence, — of no consequence, I assure 
you ” 

“You are on the parliament’s side !” 

“Ye — e — s,” returned Captain Ireton, hanging his 
head. 

Cicely shot an exterminating glance at her admirer. 

“ Then you will please never presume to address me 
again, sir !” she burst forth. “ The Cecils are for the 
king !” And the little maiden’s eyes flamed. 

“I — wish — I — was,” came from her heart-broken 
admirer, “but, — well — ’tis all over, I see, Cicely. I 
will not say any more. — I wish — but my father will 
have his way ; he’s a terrible old screw and tyrant ! — 
I have no opinions of any consequence; — but, 
well ” 

A gleam of intelligence appeared in the youth’s eyes. 

F 11 


1 22 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


“ Sir Jervas has the opinions of the family 1” 

A few minutes afterwards he took a sorrowful faie- 
well, and went disconsolately away ; and I walked with 
Cicely until nightfall, when, arm in arm, my little sister 
and myself returned in the grand moonlight which fell 
upon the old hall in a flood of glory I shall never 
forget. 


IV. 

A YOUNG GENTLEMAN WITHOUT OPINIONS OF ANY 
CONSEQUENCE. 

I had supposed the adieus of Jervas Ireton the 
younger to have been final; but on the very next morn- 
ing, just as I was about to get into the saddle, he re- 
appeared. 

The youth was clad in a superb purple uniform, the 
colors of Lord Brook, and wore on his shoulder an 
orange scarf, the badge of Lord Essex, commanding 
all the parliament forces. He was thus an imposing 
figure, in his purple and orange adornment, with the 
huge feather in his hat, and sabre at his side ; but more 
imposing still was his retinue, which consisted of about 
twenty mounted men, marching martially two abreast. 
The affair really looked like war ! Here was the dis- 
consolate lover of Cicely coming, it would seem, to 
have an official interview with Cicely’s brother and 
mildly dissuade him from going to join the king. 

My surmise was just. 


HER MAyESTY THE QUEEH. 


123 


The martial youth halted his command in a voice of 
thunder, — an order which they proceeded to obey by 
huddling together and running against each other in 
the wildest confusion, — and then, approaching me, he 
said, in a mournful tone, — 

“I hope Cicely’s not risen, Mr. Ned; oh, I think 
there she is, busy with your valise ! How I wish I was 
going with you !” 

I could not refrain from laughter. 

“Whereas it is I who am going with you, — or at least 
you think so,” I said. “In other words, my good 
Captain Jervas Ireton, you have brought that fine com- 
pany of serving-men and cobblers yonder, to arrest me 
as an adherent of his majesty?” 

The warrior hung his head. 

“ The old man is such a screw ! — the greatest tyrant, 
Mr. Ned, you ever saw ! Of course he made me come. 
Somebody told him you were going away to the king 
this morning, — so he would not rest till he had me in 
the saddle, with this tag-rag, on the way to seize you.” 

I looked at the youth, measuring his stature, then at 
his company. I could have broken him in two, despite 
my weakness, with one arm ; and the complexion of 
his followers was far from martial. 

“Well,” I said, bringing around my rapier and 
pistol, “what do you propose to do, my good sir?” 

“Oh, Mr. Ned ! don’t speak to me in that way!” 
remonstrated the young gentleman. 

“ In what way?” 

“So rough! Of course I am going to pretend to 

arrest you There is Cicely ! Oh ! the old man is 

such a tyrant !” 


124 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN". 


Cicely came out and stared in amazement. Then 
her face flushed hot. 

“ What are you and these people here for, sir?” she 
exclaimed. 

‘ 1 Nothing — nothing — that is — hem! — it’s a mere 
form, Cicely.” 

“Please call me Miss Cecil, sir,” said the little 
maiden, turning pale, but speaking with great hauteur. 

“There again! — * Sir T ” exclaimed the prostrated 
youth. “Oh, dont call me ‘Sir/ Cicely, — that is, 
Miss Cecil !” 

Cicely looked from the speaker to myself in amaze- 
ment. 

“ Our young friend is only come to bid me good-by, 
little sister,” I said. 

“ Yes, yes, — that’s it ! — and to wish you a happy 
journey, Mr. Ned !” was the eager response ; “in fact, 
my own opinion is — if I had any — but I have none of 
any consequence, I do assure you ” 

I burst into a laugh, in which my father — who, 
coming down the steps, had heard the last words, and 
understood all — nearly joined. 

“Come!” I said to the young warrior, “ why not 
choose to have some opinions ? Go and fight for his 
majesty : your bold followers will join you. There’s 
Hob, an old friend of mine, and Tom Diggs and Greg- 
ory from Keynton. They don’t know in the least what 
they are going to fight for !” 

The youth hung his head, and looked truly discon- 
solate. 

“I don’t think we can, Mr. Ned, — the old man 
is such a screw. I have no opinions myself — but — - 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


125 

confidentially — my sentiments are — 4 God save the 
king!’” 

He sank his voice as he uttered the words, and 
added, in the same tone, — 

“ Could you make it convenient to ride out by the 
back way, Mr. Ned ?* ’ 

“No,” I said. “ I propose riding through Keynton.” 

The young man started. 

“ In company with Captain Ireton, at the head of his 
bold troopers !” 

The youth looked quite aghast ; but the comedy of 
the affair had taken possession of me, — I was in the gay- 
est spirits, — and the result was that ten minutes after- 
wards I had bidden my father and Cicely farewell, and 
was riding, followed by Dick Hostler, beside Captain 
Ireton at the head of his company. 

The spectacle must have been odd. I wore my rich 
uniform of queen’s guardsman, and my companion the 
purple coat and orange scarf of the parliament. As 
we entered Keynton, all eyes were fixed upon us; and 
I gazed at it as attentively, for the village once so tran- 
quil was almost unrecognizable. The parliament ruled 
there. The shopkeepers sat on their counters, haran- 
guing crowds; the blacksmith had shut up his forge, and 
was laying down the law to the wheelwright, who seemed 
to hold opposing views ; the public room at the inn was 
thronged with idlers, agog for news; and in one end 
of the long porch, an emissary of the parliament, in 
full regimentals, was ladling out drink and calling for 
recruits. 

“ Oh, Mr. Ned !” exclaimed my companion, “what 
arp you going to do ?” 

«* 


126 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


“I? I am going to do nothing,” I said, laughing, 
“ since there’s nothing to be done !” 

“ But they see you ! — there they come ! — and oh, 
good heavens ! — there — there — is ” 

Vox faucibus hcesit / The youth, dumb with terror, 
pointed to the figure of Sir Jervas Ireton, coming 
rapidly out of the inn, and approaching. 

“ I see you have him!” exclaimed Sir Jervas; “a 
pestilent enemy of the good cause ! The young bant- 
ling now, — the old cock soon to join him !” 

The ruddy features of the knight shone, as he drew 
near. His unfortunate son shrank from him. 

“Your servant, my good Mr. Cecil,” said the 
knight, scornfully; “ I am very glad to see you.” 

“ ’Tis friendly, at least; but the sight of your wor- 
ship affects me differently,” I said, continuing my way. 

“ Stop ! — halt, I say ! — seize him !” 

And the knight rushed upon me, catching my rein 
violently. 

I did not fancy the movement, and was in a bad 
humor from the scene at dinner with my father. As 
Sir Jervas Ireton, therefore, seized my bridle-rein to 
arrest me, I dealt him a blow with my fist on the side 
of the head, which caused him to stagger. The act 
was visible to all, and twenty men darted at my horse. 

Had they caught the bridle, I must have been down 
under their feet the next moment. I guarded against 
that by striking the spur into my horse’s side and 
whirling my rapier in front. 

“ Fire! fire on him !” I heard the furious Sir Jervas 
cry to his son. And the reply of that w^rnor came 
clearly,— 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


127 


“ Oh ! — the pistols — they are not loaded !” 

The words were followed by an explosion from the 
porch of the inn ; a bullet passed through my hat, 
and I turned my head in that direction. Through the 
smoke I caught a glimpse of the parliamentary emis- 
sary, who wore a sergeant’s badges, and in the close- 
cropped hair, huge ears, and wide mouth, I recognized 
my foe the man Hulet, from London. 

A longer interview was impossible. I sent a bullet 
from my pistol at the worthy, which did him no injury. 

“ Come, Dick, ride !” I then said; “the whole crew 
are after us !” 

And, turning in my saddle, I caught off my hat, 
waved it around my head, and cried, — 

“ God save the king !” 

That was some satisfaction, at least. Prudence coun- 
seled speed now; and Dick and I went on rapidly 
through the village, pursued by shots and the worship- 
ful Captain Ireton’s dragoons. The shots did not strike 
us, and we were better mounted than the village warriors. 
A friendly wood presented itself; the shouts behind 
us died gradually away ; and, drawing rein, I went on 
through the vale of the Red Horse, scarce glancing at 
the heights of Edgehill, where I was soon to take part 
in the first battle of the Great Civil War. 


128 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


V. 


I AM CONDUCTED BEFORE PRINCE RUPERT. 

The Almighty, who is also the All-merciful and In- 
scrutable, sends tears, agony, and utter wretchedness 
to private individuals; on nations he inflicts at stated 
periods his great curse of civil war. The human being 
visited by his displeasure is easily known by the pallor, 
woe-begone look, and dejected ’havior of the visage; 
the nation cursed by civil war is marked as clearly by 
the hand of the Almighty. 

In that summer of 1642, England was scarce recog- 
nizable. The tranquil and smiling land of the past 
was dead and gone. You seemed to move on the crust 
of a volcano, and men’s minds had caught the fierce 
heat and were burnt up by fever. As I rode towards 
Nottingham, I saw on all sides the traces of the evil 
spirit of civil contention. In many a field the ripe 
grain had fallen uncut and neglected. Over others 
prowled tramps and beggars, firing on the game. The 
highways were wellnigh deserted ; and when you met a 
chance wayfarer he eyed you sidewise with suspicious 
glances, and the hand under the cloak, you felt, grasped 
a concealed weapon. All the face of the land was torn 
down. The fences were gone in many places, for the 
war of cavalry-parties had already begun, and the cattle 
wandered unpaid for, trampling down the corn and 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


129 


meadow-lands. The villages were either deserted, or 
hot-beds of agitation and gossip. In some, the shutters 
were closed, and women glanced through the cracks 
fearfully. In others, sullen glances or ardent ques- 
tions greeted you, as you adhered to one or the other 
party. 

England was thus transformed, in a day, as ’twere, 
into a war-worn realm. Her people seemed to look 
forward fearfully to some coming fate. Discussions in 
parliament had ended ; the sword had replaced debate ; 
the harsh thunder of cannon was about to drown the 
roar of hostile multitudes. 

The war, as I have said, had already begun. At 
Northampton, Lord Essex, general of the parliament 
forces, lay, I heard, with an army of about six thou- 
sand men. And his horse were already scouring the 
country between that place and Nottingham, where the 
king had assembled a force scarce half as numerous as 
his opponent’s. Thus the petite guerre of cavalry had 
begun, preluding the greater conflict of foot, and twice 
I was chased by the enemy’s foraging-parties, who very 
nearly made me a prisoner. I succeeded in evading 
them, nevertheless, and at near sunset reached the 
pickets of the royal cavalry towards Nottingham. 

My Guardsman’s uniform would, I supposed, be 
sufficient voucher for my loyalty, but the officer of the 
picket regretted his inability to pass me within the 
royal lines. He was ordered, he said, to arrest all 
persons coming northward, and send them to head' 
quarters. This was reasonable, if not agreeable, and I 
went on with the escort of two men, to whom I was 
intrusted. We rode hfilf a league, passed a large camp 


130 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


of dragoons on the edge of a forest, in which fires had 
been kindled; then a tent on a grassy hill came in 
view, and before this tent we halted. 

Out of the tent, on the summit of which floated the 
colors of the king, came a huge personage with a cor- 
poral’s badges on his arms, a long black beard, and an 
air of authority. 

‘ 4 Your pisness?” said the new-comer, with a strong 
German accent. 

The guard informed him that I and my servant had 
been arrested at the outer picket. 

“Vait!” 

And the giant retired into the tent, from which he 
soon reappeared, with the guttural announcement, — 

“ Gome in !” 

I entered, and found myself in presence of a young 
man in a general’s uniform, who was lying on a scarlet 
cloak spread on the grass, and playing with a white 
spaniel. The appearance of this officer was martial. 
His boots were covered with dust, his face ruddy from 
exposure, his eye keen and piercing, his bearing direct, 
almost abrupt : from head to foot, in every trait of his 
person, he was a soldier. On a camp couch in one 
corner of the tent lay a rich belt, containing a fine 
rapier, and from the holsters of a superb saddle near, 
protruded the handles of two highly-decorated pistols. 
The officer was plainly either of high rank, or with a 
marked fondness for bright colors, or both. I have 
found eminent soldiers careless of dress often, and 
prone, indeed, to despise decoration as puerile. The 
young general before me seemed to delight in such 
things; to enjoy the bright colors, the pomp and 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


* 3 * 

splendor of war. You could see that he was all im- 
pulse, promptness, and impetuosity. His glance was 
that of the eagle, and the eyes seemed ready to flame. 
It was plain that the first blast of the bugle would pour 
fire into this man, — that the hand would dart to the 
rapier, the spur clash on the stirrup, the simple soldier 
would replace the general, and he would lead the 
charge, sword in hand. 

All this was plain at a glance. The young officer 
responded with a look which took in every trait of my 
person. 

“ Well,” he said, with a slight foreign accent, “ who 
are these ?’ ’ 

“Brisoners, your highness,” returned the heavily- 
bearded giant. 

“Iam not highness ; I am general,” said the officer, 
briefly. 

“ Yes, sheneral.” 

“ Prisoners! This gentleman, from his uniform, is 
one of the queen’s guards.” 

“Yes, highness, — dat is, sheneral.” 

The officer had risen abruptly, repulsing his playful 
white spaniel, who continued to fawn on him. 

“You were arrested at my outer picket, sir?” he 
said, looking straight at me. 

“Yes, general. May I ask to whom I have the 
honor to speak ?” 

“ To General Rupert, commanding the horse of the 
king’s army.” 

I bowed low to his royal highness Prince Rupert, 
nephew of his majesty. 

“Your arrest, sir,” said the prince, “was in obe- 


1 3 2 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


dience to my general order. Your name, if it please 
you, and whence come you?” 

“Edmund Cecil; and I am from near Keynton, 
where I have lain ill recently, highness.” 

“Say sheneral !” here came from behind the hand 
of the huge corporal, who had edged towards me, and 
gave me this intimation in tones of subdued thunder. 

“ Spare your counsel, Hans,” said the prince, briefly, 
“and go find what horsemen are approaching.” 

The giant disappeared, and the prince turned again 
to me. 

“What intelligence, Mr. Cecil? You have no 
doubt looked and listened.” 

“To little purpose, I fear, your highness. My lord 
of Essex is at Northampton, with six thousand men, 
’tis said.” 

“ Near seven thousand. But the state of the coun- 
try, sir?” 

“’Tis in a fever, — the parliament recruiting every- 
where.” 

“And plundering.” 

“ ’Tis so said, my lord.” 

“ I will essay to stop that.” 

As he spoke, the sound of horses’ feet was heard in 
front of the tent, and an instant afterwards the gigantic 
corporal ushered in a dignified young gentleman, thin 
of figure, clad in civil dress, and with something sweet 
and melancholy in his face. 

“ My lord Falkland ! You are very welcome, my 
lord,” said the prince, cordially pressing his hand. 
Lord Falkland bowed, and said, — 

“A message from his majesty, your highness.” 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEH. 


*33 


They went to the opposite side of the tent, and 
conversed for a few moments. The prince nodded. 

“ Say to his majesty that his order will be promptly 
obeyed, my lord.” 

The prince had scarce uttered these words, when a 
prolonged bellowing was heard without, and this dis- 
cordant sound was followed by the neigh of horses. 
The prince glanced at the huge corporal, made a ges- 
ture, and the worthy went out. A few moments after- 
wards he returned. 

“ Gaptured gattle and horses, highness, — dat is, shen- 
eral !” 

“Oh, highness!” said Lord Falkland, in a low, sad 
voice, “this is very painful !” 

Before the prince could reply, a young officer entered 
the tent, saluted, and said, — 

“Your orders have been obeyed, general.” 

“ The house is fired ?” 

“Yes, general; and you may see it burning.” 

The prince went to the front of the tent : I followed. 
A ruddy glare above the southern woods indicated a 
conflagration. 

“It is well,” said Rupert: “that will teach them a 
lesson.” 

A deep sigh came like an echo to the words. It had 
issued from Lord Falkland, who was standing behind 
the prince. 

“Terrible! terrible!” murmured Falkland. 

Prince Rupert wheeled round, with an angry flush 
upon his brow. 

“ I make war !” he said, abruptly ; “ and war is not 
rose-water !” 


12 


*34 


HER MAJESTY THE Q C/E EM 


“ Pardon me,” was Falkland’s low, sad response. “ I 
meant not to offend your highness.” 

“ And I am a hot-headed fool,” exclaimed Rupert, 
grasping his visitor’s hand; “else I had never taken 
umbrage at words from the soul of honor — Falkland!” 

He paused, and looked towards the conflagration. 

“ This seems harsh to you, my lord, ’ ’ he said. “ Well, 
*tis just. The man whose house I have burned over his 
head has been merciless to the families of my soldiers, 
pointing them out to the vengeance of the parlia- 
mentary troops. That was proved to me. Well, I 
have punished him, have driven off his cattle and 
burned his house. History will hate and curse me for 
these things, if ’ tis written by friends of the parlia- 
ment. So be it ; but let me repeat, my lord, — war is 
not rose-water.” 

With these words, Prince Rupert re-entered the tent. 

An hour afterwards I was in Nottingham, talking of 
home and home- folks with my dear Harry. When we 
fell asleep, side by side, we were still murmuring our 
boyish talk, and Harry’s sweet smile went with me 
like sunshine into the dim and pleasant realm of dreams. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN . 


i3S 


VI. 


SWORDS AND PLUMES AT CECIL COURT. 

It was about sunset on a superb evening, late in 
October, that, looking from an upper window of Cecil 
Court, beside my father and Cicely, I saw the royal 
forces move in a long glittering line to the summit of 
the eminence called Edgehill, near Keynton. 

The foes were about to clash together. All attempts 
to negotiate and compose the differences between king 
and parliament had failed. Soon after my arrival at 
Nottingham, the Earl of Southampton and his associate 
commissioners, sent by King Charles to London, had 
returned and reported that they had met with scant 
courtesy, had received a written reply, and had been 
ordered to depart from London without delay. When 
the king read the parliament’s missive, his face dark 
ened, and his ire was aroused. His antagonists de 
manded his submission, — that they should control all 
appointments, occupy all fortresses, and dictate all 
public measures. 

“Should I grant these demands,” the king ex- 
claimed, in great indignation, “I should remain but 
the outside, the picture — but the sign — of a king !” 

And I think he was right in that surmise. The par- 
liament distrusted him so, that they demanded extreme 
concessions. To have yielded then were to have sur- 


1 36 her majesty the queen. 

rendered all. Instead of doing so, King Charles issued 
a solemn proclamation to his army, in which he pro- 
tested the sincerity of his intent to observe the laws, 
and called on his followers to march with him and put 
the question to issue on the battle-field. The procla- 
mation was received by the army — then numbering 
about ten thousand men — with enthusiasm ; and then 
the king moved from Nottingham southward to meet 
Lord Essex, who promptly marched from Worcester 
to accept battle. 

Thus the royal forces came near, and were seen from 
the windows of Cecil Court. It was a superb and war- 
like spectacle. The ruddy light of sunset fell, in a sort 
of glory, upon silken banners and bright scarfs, bur- 
nished arms and glossy horses. Foot, horse, and artillery 
moved slowly to the hill, — a splendid phantom, with- 
out noise, save a stifled hum, and now and then a bugle- 
note from the cavaliers of Rupert. 

All at once a noise of hoofs on the avenue came up 
to the window. I looked down, and saw the king, 
Lord Falkland, and a few others spurring towards the 
house. 

“ ’Tis his majesty I He is coming to visit us,” I 
said. 

“The king will be most welcome,” was the response 
of my father. 

And, descending, he met the king at the great door, 
and inclined profoundly. 

“We have come to take possession of your house, 
Mr. Cecil,” said the king. 

“Your majesty does my poor house a very great 
honor,” was my father’s response, with a second incli- 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


137 


nation ; and he ushered the king into the main recep- 
tion-room of the establishment, whither the Viscount 
Falkland and some other noblemen followed him. 

An excellent dinner was speedily served, and the 
noble guests — kings and noblemen are but men, and 
grow hungry, reader — evidently derived great satis- 
faction therefrom. And let me pause here an instant, 
to notice a peculiarity of my father’s menage. He 
would always live as well, every day, as his fortunes 
permitted, not starving his household for a month to 
give a grand entertainment to invited company. 

“ ’Tis but a mean manner of living at the best,” he 
would say, “ to keep your fine rooms and best food and 
full dress for state occasions ; to live in a cuddy, stint your 
table, and go slovenly before your family, in order to 
dress splendidly and make a show when strangers enter 
your door. My family are as worthy of rich food and 
the best apartments as any one, and I make my toilette 
as scrupulously for my daughter Cicely as for m) 
Lady Duchess.” 

He certainly carried out his philosophy. His dress 
was ever the same in public and in private ; the very 
best apartments at Cecil Court were used every day, 
and the table was spread daily with the best food. 
Then the door was opened ; every one was welcome, 
whether rich or poor, high or low, titled personage 
or plain countryman, all found a cordial welcome, 
and were greeted equally by the master of the man- 
sion. I don’t think my father was politer to one 
than to another. He was a very proud and simple 
gentleman of the old regime. On this evening he said 
to the king, “Enter, your majesty: you are welcome,” 


i 3 8 &Ek Majesty the queen. 

as he would have uttered the same welcome to any 
other visitor. 

The king retired after dining to the reception-room, 
which was thronged with noblemen and officers. Cecil 
Court, without and within, had suddenly become a 
general’s headquarters. Couriers went and came, with 
clashing heels and rattling spurs. Officers clad in 
superb uniforms stood around the table, beside which 
the king sat, writing orders or reading reports. In the 
grounds without, horses were tethered, champing their 
bits and stamping. In the grass-plat in front of the 
hall had been set up the king’s banner. 

His chief officers had come at his summons. These 
were Lord Lindesey, commanding-in-chief ; Prince 
Rupert, commanding the horse ; Sir Jacob Astley, the 
foot; Sir Arthur Aston, the dragoons; and Sir John 
Heydon, the artillery. I forget the troop of Guards, 
whose servants formed a second troop, always march- 
ing with their masters. The first were under Lord 
Bernard Stuart, the second under Sir William Killigrew. 
The wealthiest young noblemen of the kingdom had 
flocked to the Guards now: ’twas said, and with truth, 
I think, that the estates and revenues of these young 
private soldiers exceeded the estates and revenues of 
all the members of parliament and the House of Lords, 
when the seats of the two houses were full. 

Among these gay young volunteers was one whose 
name, when I heard it first at Nottingham, had made 
me start. Walking arm in arm with Harry, I had 
seen him beckon to a youth of about twenty, with 
bright blue eyes, chestnut curk A laughing face, and 
superbly clad. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


*39 

“ Here’s my brother Ned, Frank,” Harry said. 
“ Come and shake hands with him.” 

And as the youth came forward, with an expression 
of youthful buoyancy and sunshine in his face, Harry 
added, to me, — 

‘ ‘This is Frank Villiers, brother of our fair friend 
the maid of honor. We are sworn friends; and you 
must be his friend too.” 

The youth squeezed my hand cordially, looking at 
me with his frank eyes and smile ; and in ten minutes 
we were familiar friends. Three days afterwards, I 
seemed to have known him from his very childhood; 
and now. he had ridden with me to Cecil Court, and 
was laughing with Cicely on the portico in the moon- 
light. 

The king was busy until midnight, and then, rising, 
exchanged a few words with Viscount Falkland, his 
secretary of state. 

“All is ready, you see, my lord,” he said, “and ’tis 
probable we shall fight on the morrow. Come, sum- 
mon back your smiles : you seem woe-begone to-night.” 

Lord Falkland sighed. “ I know not wha| oppresses 
me so, your majesty,” he said. 

The king looked at him with a glance full of melan- 
choly. “ ’Tis that woman’s heart you possess, my lord. 
You shrink from battle and blood ! See, I utter un- 
gracious words. I seem to impute weakness to Falk- 
land, the bravest of all the brave gentlemen of my 
kingdom !” 

“ Your majesty knows ” 

“That ’tis kindness, not weakness? Yes! Your 
heart is bleeding, Falkland, at the blood and agony 


140 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEH. 


which to-morrow will bring. Well, my heart too 
bleeds ; but I am not the author of this conflict. I 
shrink from the future ; but I go on in my course. 
The English monarchy shall not fall, in my person, 
without a struggle, Falkland. And now good-night.” 

My father, who waited, ushered the king to his apart- 
ment, bearing a silver sconce before him. A few mo- 
ments after their disappearance, my father called me. I 
went up rapidly, and the king, who sat beside a table, 
upon which lay an open portfolio, said to me, — 

“ I have a service to ask of you, Mr. Cecil. Are you 
well mounted?” 

“ Very well, your majesty.” 

“ I wish you to go to Holland.” 

I bowed low, with a beating heart. The king had 
turned to my father. 

“Two gray-haired gentlemen like ourselves, Mr. 
Cecil,” he said, “can understand each other. I would 
write to my wife. To-night my thoughts have never 
left her. I shall go into action to-morrow, and, like a 
good husband, think of one who is thinking of me.” 

Taking a pen as he spoke, the king began to write. 
The letter, which filled two sheets, was at last finished 
and securely sealed, the king stamping the wax with 
a signet-ring which he wore. He then extended the 
package towards me, but suddenly drew it back. 

“No, I will wait until the event is decided to- 
morrow, and add some lines,” he said. “ ’Twould be 
cruel to write thus on the eve of battle, and leave her 
majesty in doubt of everything, — perhaps to torture 
herself with fears. Your pardon, Mr. Cecil,” he added 
to my father: “ I think aloud, but I take no shame to 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN, I41 

myself for my thoughts. To-night I am only a poor 
husband thinking of his absent wife.” 

He turned towards me, and added, “ ’Twould disap- 
point you too, sir, if I’m not mistaken. Go into action 
with your friends to-morrow. I shall see and share all. 
And if you survive, come to me immediately after the 
battle.” 

I saluted and retired. Half an'hour afterwards I was 
in camp, and said to Harry, beside whom I lay, — 

“ lam going to Holland to-morrow, Harry. I shall 
see her again, — Frances Villiers !” 


VII. 

BROTHERS. 

As I uttered the words, “ I shall see her again, 
— Frances Villiers !” I felt Harry start. 

“You say that in an ardent tone, Ned,” he replied. 
“ Is the prospect so delightful?” 

I was silent, and felt a burning blush rush to my face 
in the darkness. 

“True!” I stammered. “I have never spoken of 
this even to you, my dearest Harry. But ’tis out now ! 
Yes, I look forward to the moment when I shall see 
Frances Villiers again with the wildest beating of the 
heart. When the king said, ‘ I wish you to go to Hol- 
land,’ the words were like music. How could I feel 
aught but joy, or listen calmly, as his majesty spoke 


142 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


thus, Harry? The person I’ll see there has long been 
dearer to me than all else in this world !” 

Followed a gushing oration, full of passionate love 
and general froth and absurdity. What makes young 
gentlemen when they are in love insist upon bestow- 
ing their raptures, with a sort of drunken ardor, on the 
nearest person ? They grow maudlin when the fit is on 
them, and talk on through the night-watches forever. 
So I opened my heart to Harry, and told him all, as 
we lay there on Edgehill, — how I had loved Frances 
Villiers from our first meeting nearly, had dreamed of 
her day and night when at Hampton Court, and had 
sighed bitterly when she went away, — my sun, moon, 
and starlight all combined ! This, and all the rest ! I 
spare the reader, as I did not spare poor Harry. He 
listened in silence for a long time, and scarce inter- 
rupted me to the end. There was something strange 
in his voice, I thought, — I did not note it then, but 
remembered it afterwards. 

“ Well, Ned,” he said, at length, forcing a laugh, “ I 
see you are regularly a victim; but I don’t wonder, 
since the enchantress is the fair Miss Villiers, the em- 
press of all hearts !” 

He laughed again; but the laugh was discordant. 

“ What ails you, Harry? Your laugh is strange !” I 
said. 

“ Ails me? Nothing, Ned. What could ail me? I’m 
not anxious about the fight to-morrow on Mr. Harry 
Cecil’s score, I swear to you. If I felt solicitude, 
’twould be on Ned Cecil’s account, brother.” 

His voice had softened to the sweetest music : there 
was no longer the tone of frolic laughter in it, but an 


her majesty the queen. 


143 


earnest kindness and goodness that touched me to the 
heart, as he ended with that word “brother,” never 
employed save in moments of loving regard. 

“ Then we think of each other,” I said; “ for I have 
prayed for you, Harry ! You are my only brother, and 
the very best brother that man ever had !” 

Harry’s old kind laugh rang out. 

“Good! Here we are making protestations,” he 
said. “ What’s the advantage ? Don’t I know that you 
love me, Ned, as I love you ? Since we were children 
we never have quarreled but once, when I beat you 
and then went and sat on the steps and cried about it ! 
I’ll back Ned Cecil for a brother against any man in 
England ! And now let’s go to sleep; ’tis near day, 
and the fight may open at dawn. So you go to Hol- 
land? — Well, present my regards to the fair Miss 
Frances. She’s worth loving, Ned, — forward ! — I mean 
to be present at your wedding !” 

The words were uttered in a low tone, and Harry 
turned away, as though going to sleep. Suddenly he 
wheeled round, and placed his arm around my neck. 

“ God bless my brother !” he said, in the same strange 
tone : “that comes straight from my heart, Ned ! — and 
now good-night.” 

A moment afterwards, a long heavy breathing seemed 
to indicate that Harry slept. I knew afterwards that, 
like myself, he lay awake until dawn. Then the bugle 
sounded, and the camps were astir. 

The day of battle had come, — the first battle of the 
English Civil War. 


144 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


VIII. 

I VISIT THE HAGUE. 

These memoirs, may it please the reader, are not 
a history of the reign of his majesty King Charles I., 
nor even a narrative of the military occurrences of 
the “Great Rebellion.” Guns will roar on the page, 
bugles sound, and swords clash, sometimes; but ’tis 
the adventures of Edmund Cecil which will chiefly 
compose the story. 

Therefore of Edgehill I present but a passing sketch ; 
and I think all battles had best be treated in that 
manner. What are they but a hurly-burly of shouts, 
explosions, and cheers or groans ! The movements of 
columns or wings are described in a few words ; then 
nothing is left but that confused struggle of the op- 
posing masses. I have been in many battles ; and all 
resemble each other in the one great feature of men in 
clothes of different colors essaying to tear each other 
to pieces. 

The king’s army, of about ten thousand men, was 
drawn up on the slope of Edgehill. In the vale of the 
Red Horse, beneath, the ten or fifteen thousand men 
of Lord Essex confronted them in order of battle. All 
day the opponents faced each other thus. Towards 
sunset the battle began. With fluttering banners, 
blasts of the bugle, and the roar of artillery, the royal 
forces advanced to charge those of the parliament, 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


145 


Prince Rupert, on our right, commanding the horse, 
began the struggle, as was thereafter his wont. He 
charged the left wing of Lord Essex, consisting of a 
strong body of cavalry ; and, riding with the Guards 
in front, I witnessed a singular incident. The troop 
of horse we were charging suddenly fired their pistols 
into the ground ; their commanding officer spurred to 
meet us, and made a parade-salute with his sabre to 
Prince Rupert, with whom he exchanged a few words ; 
an instant afterwards the troop had wheeled and ranged 
themselves on the side of the king. Sir Faithful For- 
tescue — forced, ’twas said, to march with the parlia- 
ment’s forces against his will — had changed his flag on 
the day of battle, for which I, a royalist, could never 
forgive him. 

Struck thus by the whole weight of Rupert’s horse- 
men, the enemy’s left wing gave way. A wild chaos 
followed, the pursuers cutting down the fugitives as 
they fled. They were followed nearly a league thus ; 
and Heaven knows how far the pursuit would have ex- 
tended, had not a thunder of shouts in the distance 
recalled the prince to a sense of his indiscretion. 

Sir Arthur Aston had broken the right of Lord Essex, 
as Rupert had broken the left ; but the infantry of the 
king was thus stripped of its supports of horse. Sir 
William Balfour, commanding the parliament’s reserve 
force, advanced ; the lines clashed together furiously. 
Lord Lindsey, our commander, was mortally wounded, 
and taken prisoner ; and Sir Edmund Verney, bearing 
the king’s standard, fell dead, — the standard falling 
into the enemy’s hands. 

Such was the state of things when Prince Rupert let} 
Q 13 


1 46 HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 

back his horse from the ill-timed pursuit. He came 
too late to be of much service. The king’s standard 
was recaptured ; but the enemy continued to present 
an unbroken front. Then night descended : — the two 
armies retained their positions ; the watch-fires blazed 
in long lines within sight of each other in the vale of 
the Red Horse: — the fight of Edgehill, which left 
five thousand dead men on the field, had resulted in 
success to neither side. 

The sole ground for claiming a victory over the 
parliament was the fact that Essex retired, and the 
king advanced towards London afterwards. But this I 
did not witness. I was on my way to Holland. 

At midnight his majesty had delivered to me his 
letter to the queen, containing, doubtless, additional 
matter relating to the battle. 

“This with speed to her majesty at the Hague, 
Mr. Cecil,” the king said. “At Yarmouth a vessel 
awaits you : here is my order to the captain. Travel 
rapidly ; and, if you are in peril, destroy the letter. A 
good journey, sir ! I would fain go in your place.” 

I took the letter, bowing low, and ten minutes after- 
wards was in the saddle. 

A hand in the darkness was placed on my knee. 

“You forget to bid me good-by, Ned !” 

The voice was gentle, — almost tender. In my foolish 
joy at the thought of seeing Frances Villiers, I had 
quite forgotten my dearest Harry ; but he had not for- 
gotten me. 

His arm was placed around me : a few words, and 
we had parted. 

Of all persons after my father, I loved this one the 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


147 

best. ’Tis my pride and joy now to remember that he 
too loved me. 

But I did not think of Harry then ; nor did I know 
the full wealth of that noble heart and the extent of 
my brother’s self-sacrifice. 

I passed across the country at full speed, avoiding 
the enemy’s scouting-parties, reached Yarmouth, found 
the king’s vessel — a small sloop — waiting, and gave the 
captain the order. We put to sea at once, and, after a 
stormy passage, saw the low shores of Holland appear 
like a long green line on the water. 

In due time I disembarked at the Hague and deliv- 
ered the king’s letter to her majesty. 


IX. 

A GOOD WIFE. 

I went to Holland, expecting to return to England 
at once. I remained there from October until the 
month of February, 1643. 

The queen had said to me, “ I wish your assistance 
here, Mr. Cecil. Remain, therefore ; but do not fear : 
you shall soon see England again.” 

As her majesty thus spoke, sitting in an apartment 
of the palace of the Princes of Orange, at the Hague, 
her face glowed with aninia|tion, and her eyes were ful) 
qf courage. 


1 48 HER MAJES 7 Y THE QUEEN. 

“You are a friend of the royal cause, sir, and a 
gentleman of discretion, too,” her majesty was pleased 
to add, smiling. “ I shall therefore take you into our 
confidence and inform you of our good fortune. See 
this paper: we have the promise of these round sums 
from the worthy burghers here. ’ ’ 

She held out a paper to me, and I perused its con- 
tents. Rotterdam engaged to lend forty thousand 
guilders, and the bank at the same city the sum of 
twenty-five thousand more. The bank at Amsterdam 
promised eight hundred and forty-five thousand more. 
Merchants at the Hague, one hundred and sixty-six 
thousand more. Another merchant’s house offered two 
hundred and thirteen thousand two hundred, on the 
security of the queen’s pearls. Six rubies were accepted 
in pawn for forty thousand more. From the paper, in 
a word, I learned how successful her majesty had been. 
She had the promise of, and afterwards did actually 
receive, from these various sources, more than two 
millions of pounds sterling. 

I raised my eyes from the paper, and fixed them 
upon the animated face of the queen. 

“ The worthy burgomasters of this good country 
have not surrendered without a desperate resistance,” 
her majesty added, laughing. “They exhibited at 
first little favor towards me, and, indeed, scant respect 
for my person. They entered my presence with their 
heads covered ; threw themselves unbidden into chairs 
before me; stared at me in the manner of persons 
viewing some strange wild animal ; and, when I spoke 
of money, more than once turned their backs ancj 
marched from the room.” 


Her majesty The queen. 


149 

“*Tis not possible!” I said. “And could your 
majesty endure such treatment?” 

“ Without a word, Mr. Cecil. The worthy burghers 
could not repulse me. I responded to all their dis- 
courtesy with the sweetest smiles. I would not see the 
beavers remaining on their heads ; I had chairs brought 

them, and begged they would be seated. Never was 
bankrupt merchant more polite to those who could as- 
sist him. And I have triumphed despite everything ; 
despite Sir Walter Strickland, the parliament’s agent 
here, a brother of Sir William, of the enemy’s side in 
England. I have triumphed, and shall soon set out for 
England with an armament. His majesty’s need is sore 
there, and my assistance will not arrive too soon. The 
gentlemen of the parliament seem inspired with a veri- 
table fury against us. I say us , since ’ tis my pride to 
have secured at least one-half their enmity ! They ex- 
haust every effort, I am told. Plate, jewels, even the 
thimbles and bodkins of the worthy burghers’ wives, 
pour into the treasury at Guildhall, to support the 
‘good cause.’ Why then should not I, in my turn, 
give my jewels ? The good dames of London rush to 
the assistance of Mr. Pym and Mr. Cromwell and 
the leaders of the * godly. ’ A poor ‘ malignant ’ wife, 

then, may be pardoned for essaying to aid her hus- 
band!” 

So spoke the queen. Whatever her faults, she was 
assuredly a brave and devoted wife. Throughout all 
those stormy times this fealty to her husband shines 
clearly. At Newark, once, when the ladies petitioned 
that she would not march till Nottingham was taken, 
she replied, — 


156 tiER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 

“ Ladies, affairs of this nature are not in our sphere. 
I am commanded by the king to make all the haste to 
him that I can. You will receive this advantage, at 
least, by my answer, though I cannot grant your peti- 
tion: you may learn, by my example, to obey your 
husbands !” 

I see a charming French wit in that reply, and good 
sense too, I think. I finish the sentence with trepida- 
tion, knowing some fair dames who repudiate such 
humility. ’Tis taught in the holy volume, but is going 
out of fashion. 

So I remained at the Hague until February, 1643, 
before which time her majesty had not perfected her 
arrangements for returning to England. 

I shall say little of that time : the days followed and 
resembled each other too. A flat country, and a flat 
life there; or ’twould have been flat, the life I led, 
but for the presence of a person who was very dear to 
me. With one scene, in which this person bore part, 
I will pass from Holland. I would omit even this, 
willingly; but ’tis impossible. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


151 


X. 

MY FATE. 

I pause, and lean my forehead on my hand, and 
laugh. I did not laugh then : the scene I speak of did 
not arouse my merriment. 

It took place at Helvoetsluys, a country palace of 
the Prince of Orange, whither the queen went on a 
visit, towards the spring, taking her suite with her. 

An old park, beyond which the sluggish waters of a 
canal were seen, — the country around flat and pro- 
saic; the park bare and dreary with its leafless trees, — 
amid such a scene I was walking at twilight with Frances 
Villiers, and had just made a passionate speech, to which 
the young lady had listened with a burning blush. 

Through the mists that have gathered in all the years 
since that moment, I can see her plainly. She wore a 
dress of red brocade, and had thrown some furs around 
her shoulders. From beneath a silken hood her great 
eyes shone, half covered, as her head sank, by curls ; 
her cheeks were crimson with that sudden blush ; and 
the hand I held in my own was bent upward, with the 
palm downward, so that the round white wrist was bent. 

The hand tried to release itself, and some words came 
in a sort of murmur from the lips, turned away from 
me. 

“ Have pity on me ! You know now that I love you 
more than my life ! You must have seen it all these 
days. Now I speak, and await my fate !” 


152 HER MAJESTY THE QUEEM. 

Something like this escaped from the young man 
holding the hand of the girl ; and a long deep breath 
which she drew, as though to relieve her bosom from 
a weight upon it, filled the lover with delicious hope. 

Alas ! 

It came ! — that reply which so many a gay gallant 
has received in this world : 

“I cannot ! — oh, nol Why force me to this, Mr. 
Cecil?” 

She stopped, and all at once her confusion seemed 
to disappear. Her head turned towards me; the great 
eyes were full of calm goodness and sweetness; the 
blushes had disappeared, and the hand was gently with 
drawn. 

“ There is something terrible in this,” she mur- 
mured. “ Our interview is doubly unfortunate, Mr. 
Cecil.” 

“ Terrible ? — unfortunate?” 

“ Is it not unfortunate when ” 

She paused. 

“ Speak ! — you torture me,” I said. 

“I would fain speak, Mr. Cecil,” she said, with 
earnest feeling, “but I know not how to tell you all. 
’Tis hard for a maiden to say what I desire to utter. 
And yet — ’tis better, is it not, ever to be frank and 
open?” 

“ A thousand times better ! Speak thus, I pray you ! ’ * 

She raised her eyes, which had been cast down for an 
instant, and they beamed with candor and goodness. 

“We are friends; I value your friendship: will 
you then permit me to speak as your friend, with the 
unreserve even of a sister? Do not woo me, sir; 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


*53 

'twould bring unhappiness : I have read in books that 
*tis terrible when two brothers are rival suitors 1” 

Her face flushed again, and, as she thus spoke, she 
turned towards the palace. 

I followed in a sort of stupor. ’ Tis terrible when 
two brothers are rival suitors! Those words rang in 
my brain, and confused me like a blow. Harry was a 
suitor of Frances Villiers, then ! I had never dreamed 
of that, regarding them as friends only ; now the an- 
nouncement came suddenly that I was my dear brother’s 
rival. 

“God help me!” I groaned, at length; “why was 
this concealed from me? What evil fate has placed me 
in opposition to my dearest brother?” 

“Evil indeed, sir!” murmured the young girl: 
“were that brothers’ love to be broken by me, I 
should die of grief and shame.” 

I walked on in silence beside her, and we drew near 
the entrance to the palace. Suddenly she turned her 
head and fixed her eyes upon me. The earnest glance 
seemed to read all that was passing in my mind. 

“There is something I should add,” she said, in a 
low tone; “and I will not shrink now. Yes, your 
brother is my suitor ; but I have no heart for any one, 
sir. My life — like my character, perhaps — is a strange 
one, Mr. Cecil. I am an orphan, nearly alone in the 
world : my life is dedicated to but one great sentiment, 
— my love for the queen. I shall never marry. For- 
get me ! those are the last words I said to your brother, 
Mr. Cecil.” 

She went up the great staircase slowly, leaving me 
standing at the foot. 

G* 


*54 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


Then Harry loved her, — and he had bid me good- 
speed in my wooing ! 

My face must have flushed ; a sudden warmth made 
itself felt in my heart, as I remembered my brother’s 
last greeting when I left him. 

“Well, ’tis fortunate,” I muttered, “that I have 
received my quietus too ! ’Twill make my course easier, 
my resolution from this moment not to stand in the 
path of my dear Harry. He abandons the field to me, 
— I abandon it to him. My heart may break; at least 
I shall not be dishonored. ’ ’ 

Do you smile, reader, and say that all this was ro- 
mantic and high-flown? Would that to-day my heart 
were as fresh and true and unselfish as ’twas then, when 
I gave up the love of a woman for the love I bore my 
brother ! 


BOOK III. 


i. 


THE ADVENTURES OF A QUEEN. 

These memoirs, fortunately, deal much more in in- 
cident than in sentiment. All the love-making they 
contain was made by my humble self, you see, friend ; 
and, looking back now, those scenes impress me as 
exquisitely absurd. 

Have your laugh, therefore, reader, at that interview 
in the park at Helvoetsluys ; then come with me to 
some scenes which will possess more interest. 

We are going to return to England. The queen 
had received her two million pounds sterling. With 
the larger portion she had bought artillery and other 
munitions; and on a clear day of February, 1643, she 
sailed from Scheveling, in a first-class ship, the Prin- 
cess Royal, with eleven transports, — the whole con- 
voyed by a war-fleet under command of Admiral Van 
Tromp. 

The weather had promised to be fine ; but the heavens 
speedily clouded over. Then a violent northeasterly 
gale began to roar, and the seas to dash. With every 
moment the wind seemed to become more violent ; 
and I shall never forget the ludicrous scenes which 

(155) 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEH. 


*56 

took place on the Princess Royal. There, every one, 
save the queen, had fallen a prey to sea-sickness. The 
ladies of her suite were tied in their small beds, I was 
told, to secure them from the tossing of the ship. All 
was wailing and moaning, prayers for deliverance, and 
vows against again tempting the horrors of the great 
deep. In the general confusion, scarce an attempt 
was made to preserve etiquette. Those who essayed 
to serve the queen rolled and fell as they approached 
her, — thereby causing her to laugh heartily, with her 
pleasant sense of humor. 

The storm grew ever more violent; and now the 
ship seemed about to founder. Then the ludicrous 
character of the spectacle presented reached its high- 
est point. The ladies of the suite gave up hope, and 
began to shout aloud their confessions to the attendant 
priests. The priests were in wretched plight, as they 
shared the terrible nausea ; and as the strange confes- 
sions were cried out at the top of the fair ladies’ voices, 
they vainly strove to pay attention, — pale, woe-begone, 
and as wretched as their penitents. 

In the midst of all sat the queen, looking on and 
listening. At last the scene overpowered her, and she 
burst into a hearty laugh. 

“For shame, ladies!” she said. “See! there are 
gentlemen at the door who hear you !” 

And indeed several of the queen’s gentlemen were 
looking on, and listening to the strange revelations. 

The queen shrugged her fair shoulders after the 
French fashion, and added, — 

“Well, I suppose the extremity of your fears takes 
away the shame of confessing such misdeeds in public I” 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


157 


And, rising, she took a step forward to leave the 
cabin. As she did so, the ship rolled suddenly, and 
the queen would have fallen had I not hastened to her, 
I received her in my arms, and she clung to me, — the 
royal head upon my shoulder! The sea is terribly 
democratic. The arms of a subject were around his 
queen ! — for a moment only, however : her majesty 
regained her footing at once, and ascended to the 
deck. 

Here, leaning on the rail, and gazing with perfect 
calmness upon the wild waters lashed to fury by the 
storm, the queen uttered these words to the few per- 
sons who had followed her : 

“ Comfort yourselves, mes cheres / — queens of Eng- 
land are never drowned !” 

They were brave words; and ’twas a heart bravei 
than many a man’s from which they came. 

The tempest continued day and night for many 
days; and finally the Princess Royal and the whole 
fleet were beaten back to the coast of Holland, — all 
but two of the vessels, which foundered in the tempest. 

The queen was not discouraged. Her eyes were 
fixed on England, and again the fleet set sail. This 
time favoring winds blew, and the vessels ran rapidly 
before them. At dawn one morning I heard a cry on 
deck. I hastened up, and saw that the fleet had en- 
tered Burlington Bay, on the coast of Yorkshire ; and 
on the hills, now in plain view, a considerable body of 
the royal cavalry was drawn up in long line, ready to 
welcome us. 

The queen was not to land her stores and regain 
J>is majesty, however, without further adventures j and 

14 


158 her majesty the queen. 

I beg the reader not to suppose from that word “ ad- 
ventures” that I feign these incidents. They are the 
simple truth. 

Her majesty had landed a portion of her stores, and 
gone on shore with her suite, when an enemy suddenly 
appeared and roughly saluted her. This enemy was 
Admiral Batten, in command of a fleet of parliament 
vessels ; and the first intimation we had of his approach 
was the thunder of guns. 

The cannonade began at dawn one morning, before 
the queen, who slept in a small house on the shore, 
had risen. She was startled from slumber by the cries 
of her ladies, and before she was well awake the houses 
around were battered down, and two cannon-balls struck 
the roof above her, crashing down through the ceil- 
ings. There was thus no time for delay. Van Tromp 
had engaged the enemy ; but a part of their attentions 
was bestowed upon the house the queen occupied, in 
ignorance, I hope, of her presence, though Admiral 
Batten was charged with firing on her majesty. 

Scarce stopping to make any portion of her toilette, 
the queen hastened from the threatened mansion. She 
had thrown around her shoulders a flowered robe-de- 
chambre , her brown hair fell in masses of curls around 
her neck, and she had thrust her small white feet into 
a pair of thin silken slippers, which scarce defended 
them from the sharp flints of the way. Such was the 
unceremonious guise in which the queen fled through 
the street of Burlington. All at once she stopped. 
I was near her majesty, and cried to her to hasten on f 

“ No, I cannot leave Mitte behind }” she sai^ 
fi ^filte I” I exclaimed 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


159 


“My poor lap-dog, Mr. Cecil.’ * 

“I beseech your majesty! — I will return and ” 

The queen had scarce listened. She was back again 
at the house ere I could turn round. I ran after her. 
The street was raked by cannon-shot, and the hoarse 
thunder resounded from the sea: with that thunder 
suddenly mingled the yelp of a dog. 

I had reached the door of the house just as the queen, 
who had run up to her chamber and caught the lap- 
dog from his place of repose on her own bed, made 
her reappearance, clasping Mitte in her arms. 

“ I could not leave him to the mercy of the parlia- 
ment, Mr. Cecil ! They have voted me guilty of high 
treason, and might condemn him ! What a tragedy, to 
think of his perishing on Tower Hill !” 

“Good heavens!” I exclaimed, “for your majesty 
to jest at such a hi omen t !” 

As I spoke, a cannot-shot passed within a few feet of 
the queen and entered a house near us. 

“ Hasten, your majesty ! — I beseech you !” 

“I am not afraid ; but you see I am running, Mr. 
Cecil!” 

The beautiful face, with its flush of excitement, was 
turned over the shoulder. The rosy lips were parted 
over the white teeth by a smile ; the dark eyes beamed 

from behind the mass of brown hair Pardon my 

romantic enthusiasm, reader : Queen Mary was very 
beautiful then, as she ran with her little bare feet and 
laughed at the bullets. 

They pursued her as she fled from the town into the 
country. Reaching the fields, she crouched down with 
her attendants in a cbtch fpr protection. As she cijc} 


160 HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN 

so, a piteous cry resounded a few yards from her. A 
servant of her suite had uttered the cry : he had been 
torn in two by a cannon-ball. 

All day the roar continued, and all day the queen 
crouched down. As evening came, the parliament 
ships sailed away, pursued by Van Tromp. 

“And now the rest of my stores may land,” said 
the queen ; “and I’ll go dress myself.” 


II. 

A FEMALE GENERAL. 

The queen remained near Burlington for about ten 
days, superintending the disembarkation of her arms 
and stores. 

I say near Burlington ; not in the town. Her maj- 
esty had removed thence to an old manor-house, 
crowning a lofty hill, not far distant; and ’twas surely 
a singular freak of fate that this house should be Boyn- 
ton Hall, the property of Sir William Strickland, the 
emissary of parliament who intruded so inopportunely 
upon the last meeting of the king and queen at Dover. 
Sir William was in London, or with the parliamentary 
forces; and her majesty established her headquarters 
at Boynton Hall on the military principle, no doubt, 
that it is permissible in time of war to live upon the 
enemy. 

It was a veritable general headquarters, — the old hall 
in that spring of ’43. Messengers went and came ; the 
queen sent off and received dispatches to and froqi th§ 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 

king, who faced the enemy near Oxford; a great 
company of gentlemen of the region flocked to the 
hall; and the result of the queen’s courageous energy 
was a general movement in favor of the king. The 
queen greeted every one with warm cordiality and the 
sweetest smiles. Arms were distributed on all sides 
from her stores rapidly landing, and from what were 
called “the queen’s pledges” a very considerable ad- 
dition to her treasury resulted. These “pledges,” 
which are, no doubt, still retained in many families, 
were rings, lockets, and bracelet clasps, with the letters 
H. M. R., — standing for Henrietta Maria Regina, — in 
delicate gold filigree-work, entwined in a monogram, 
against a background of crimson velvet, covered with 
thick crystal. These pledges were offered on all sides, 
in return for loans. When the king had his own again, 
the loans would be repaid on presentation of the 
pledges. In this manner considerable sums were 
added to the queen’s military chest, and the work of 
arming the adherents of the king’s cause, and of laying 
them under contribution too, went on rapidly. 

The enthusiasm of the Yorkshire gentry in the queen’s 
behalf soon showed itself. One morning came the in- 
telligence that Sir Hugh Cholmondeley had delivered 
Scarborough Castle to the king, and the Hothams, who 
had shut the gates of Hull on the king, declared for 
him. 

The popularity of the queen reached its highest point 
a few days afterwards, from the performance of an 
action on her part equally generous and judicious. 

One of the captains of the parliamentary fleet which 
had bombarded the queen in Burlington had ventured 
14* 


162 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


on shore near that place, and been seized by friends of 
the king. Men’s minds were too much inflamed then 
to pay much regard to law and justice. This officer 
had simply performed his duty to his flag in firing on 
the queen; but this construction of his conduct had 
very few supporters. He was tried hastily, by a mili- 
tary tribunal. The act of intending to fire on the 
queen was or was not proved against him : the point 
in controversy was quickly decided by ordering him to 
be taken out and shot. 

The queen, ever on horseback now, going to and 
fro, met the procession. At the head walked the 
parliamentary officer, with his hands bound, and an 
armed escort beside him. 

“ The meaning of this? Stop !” said the queen. “ I 
command here !” 

An officer of the royal force approached, and, doffing 
his beaver, bowed low. 

“ ’Tis the man who trained the cannon on your 
majesty whilst in Burlington,” he said. “The act is 
proved upon him ; he has been tried and condemned — ” 

“ And you would execute him ? No ! A thousand 
times no, sir ! .He but followed his orders. I was an 
enemy, and the king’s flag was up.” 

“But consider that this man very nearly put your 
majesty to death.” 

“Ah !” the queen said, “but I have forgiven him 
ail that ; and, as he did not kill me, he shall not be 
put to death on my account.” 

The officer bowed his head. 

“Release him,” said the queen. 

The prisoner’s arms were unbound, and he shook 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 163 

them to restore the circulation of the blood, inter- 
rupted by the cords. Then he turned, and fixed his 
eyes silently upon the glowing face of the queen. 

“Thank her majesty for her royal goodness,” said 
the person who had unbound him. 

The officer of parliament turned scornfully towards 
the speaker, and replied, — 

“A truce to your advice, my good sir! ’Tis not 
you who would have spared me. And I thank no one 
for not committing murder on my person.” 

A murmur of indignation was heard ; but the adhe- 
rent of parliament laughed derisively. 

The queen approached him, still mounted, and, gaz- 
ing at him earnestly, said, in her low, soft voice, — 

“ You are at liberty to go whither you will, sir; and 
what you say is just. You owe me no thanks. You 
might justly have died cursing me had I permitted this 
cruel deed. You are an enemy, and a brave one. 
Pity you cannot be my friend and the king’s. But I 
will not solicit you, save to entreat you not to per- 
secute one who would not harm you when she could.” 

As the queen spoke, in her voice full of earnest feel- 
ing, a flush came to the face of the officer. He fixed 
a long, searching look upon the face of the queen, 
opened his lips to speak, but uttered only some unin- 
telligible words ; then he bowed low, doffing his round 
hat, as the queen, saluting him in turn, rode on. 

A week afterwards, this officer, with a number of 
his men, had deserted to the king’s standard. I say 
deserted: it is always desertion to change your flag in 
face of the enemy, whatever the merit of the cause 
profiting by your change. 


1 64 HER majesty the queen. 

This act of judicious clemency won all hearts, and 
made the queen warm friends, even thawing the 
somewhat frigid faces of the ladies at Boynton Hall, 
who naturally embraced the parliament cause. 

These ladies were now subjected to a somewhat rough 
test of their equanimity. As the queen rose from dinner, 
on the last day of her sojourn at Boynton Hall, she 
paused a moment before leaving the room, looked at 
the table covered with massive silver plate, and said, — 

“I fear, ladies, ’twill be thought I am about to make 
an ungracious return for the courtesies I have received ; 
but unhappily the king’s affairs have come to that 
pass that he requires pecuniary aid. And this,” here 
her majesty glanced at a portrait of Sir William Strick- 
land on the wall, “ through the disaffection and want 
of duty on the part of some of those who ought to have 
been among his most loyal supporters.” 

The preface was ominous: the ladies listened in 
silence. 

“The parliament has refused,” continued the queen, 
“to grant the supplies requisite for maintaining the 
honor of the crown, and therefore money must be ob- 
tained by other means. I am sorry thus to be under 
the necessity of taking possession of Sir William Strick- 
land’s plate. But do not regard this as a confiscation 
of an enemy’s goods, ladies, I pray you. I shall con- 
sider it as a loan ; and, as I trust the king will very 
soon compose the disorders in these parts, I will restore 
the plate, or at any rate its value in money, to Sir 
William Strickland. Meanwhile, ladies, I will leave 
at Boynton Hall, as a pledge of my royal intention 
and a memorial of my visit, my own portrait. ’ * 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


1^5 

At a sign from the queen, the door opened, and two 
men brought in a superbly-framed life-size portrait of 
herself. It represented her majesty clad in white, the 
open sleeves caught up with broad green ribbon, the 
bodice laced across with gold chains and ornamented 
with pendent pearls. The hair was short and in frizzled 
curls, after the French fashion called tete de mouton. 
The back of the head was decorated with flowers, and 
the dark eyes looked out from the delicate face with an 
expression of exquisite candor and sweetness. 

“ I offer this pledge of my intent to restore what I 
take, ladies,” said the queen. “ ’Tis hard necessity 
which impels me : I pray you have charity. I am a 
poor wife only, striving to aid my husband, and that, 
you know, ladies, is a duty inculcated by Holy Writ.” 

The lurking spirit of humor in the queen shone from 
her eyes as she thus spoke. She saluted with a gracious 
bend of the head, and left the apartment. 

At dawn on the next day she was in the saddle, and, 
followed by her suite, rode down the hill. Boynton 
Hall was quiet again : her majesty had taken the field. 

On a down a league distant, suddenly appeared, 
drawn up in battle-array, a body of the king’s horse. 
Their arms flashed, and plumes and banners waved. 
Then a ringing blast from the bugles saluted the queen, 
and a fiery cavalier, young, superbly clad, and riding 
a magnificent charger, came on at full gallop. Fifty 
paces from the queen he checked his horse, throwing 
him upon his haunches. Then, doffing his plumed 
beaver, he saluted profoundly, and said, — 

“ Welcome to your majesty.” 

“ Thanks, my lord of Montrose,” was the queen’s 


1 66 HER MAJESTY THE QVEEH. 

reply, as she saluted the famous Scot. “You are from 
York?” 

“ With two thousand horse, your majesty, ready to 
escort you thither.” 

“Who commands there?” 

“The Earl of Newcastle, your majesty.” 

“I go to supersede him!” exclaimed the queen, 
with joyous smiles. “ See my reinforcements !” 

And she pointed to her train following. It consisted 
of six cannon, two large mortars, and two hundred 
and fifty wagons loaded with money, plate, fire-arms, 
rapiers, and munitions of all descriptions, just disem- 
barked from the fleet. 

“With your escort of two thousand gallant cavaliers, 
my lord, I doubt not I shall safely deliver my stores to 
his majesty.” 

“Your majesty will move towards York speedily?” 

“I will move to-day, — this moment.” 

“ In that case I beg your majesty will enter the coach 
I have brought for your use. ’ ’ 

“A coach?” 

“A very convenient one, your majesty.” 

The queen shook her head, laughing. “ I shAll not 
need your coach, my lord : I have taken the field ! I 
am a soldier of the king’s, and soldiers do not ride in 
coaches. See this spirited little palfrey : I am at ease 
upon him, and fear no fatigue. Shall I boast too that 
I am as little afraid of an enemy ? Should the forces 
of the parliament attack you, my lord, I will take com- 
mand of the baggage. You see I am ready. We go 
by Malton, do we not? Give the word to advance; 
and God save the king !” 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


167 


The queen was now in front of the long-drawn 
column of horse. They heard her words, and as she 
rode at full speed to the head of the column, Montrose 
galloping beside her, a thundering shout and the clash 
of arms was heard. Two thousand men shouted, — 
“God save Queen Mary 1” 


III. 

HARRY AND I. 

Queen Mary rode across the wolds to Malton, and 
thence towards York, persisting still in her brave reso- 
lution to share the hardships of her soldiers. 

She would enter no chariot ; paid attention neither 
to wind nor sun nor storm ; ate the rude fare of the 
men, in bivouac among them, — and they came to adore 
her almost. This delicate woman, lapped in down from 
her childhood, and accustomed to all luxuries, cheerfully 
— even gayly — endured every hardship, and marched, 
and slept, and ate, and was ready to fight too, like the 
humblest trooper of her forces. 

The queen sat one evening in the doorway of her 
small tent, which had been pitched beneath a large oak, 
beside the road, in sight of the great camp. Around 
her majesty were grouped the ladies and gentlemen of 
her suite, and a number of officers, including the gal- 
lant Montrose. 


1 68 &&R MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 

All at once the queen stopped eating her hard bread, 
and fixed her eyes on some object in the distance. It 
was a horseman coming at full speed ; and in five min- 
utes he had approached within a hundred yards of the 
tent, when he threw himself from the saddle, affixed 
his bridle to a bough, and, drawing near, doffed his 
plumed hat, making a profound inclination. 

I recognized Harry. He had evidently ridden hard ; 
and, as he came, he drew from his breast a packet. 

“ For your majesty,” he said, bending his knee, and 
presenting the packet. 

The queen caught it eagerly, and said, — 

“You come from his majesty, Mr. Cecil?” 

Harry blushed with pleasure at this recognition, and 
bowed low. 

“ He is well?” 

“ Quite well, your majesty.” 

“ God be thanked !” 

She had torn open the letter, and now read it by 
the last rays of sunset. As she read, her face flushed. 
Finishing, she raised her head, and her eyes were full 
of indignation and martial fire. “ Do you know the 
ultimatum of the parliament, my lord?” she said to 
Montrose. 

“Submission, doubtless, your majesty,” replied the 
soldier, coolly. 

“You have guessed correctly, my lord. Yes, sub- 
mission. The Earl of Northumberland, the kinsman 
of Lady Carlisle, who betrayed me, has had the courage 
and the want of shame to visit his majesty as the com- 
missioner of parliament ; and here is the narrative of 
his errand !” 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 169 

She struck the paper with her finger. 

“ They demand but little ! — they are moderate, these 
good gentlemen ! They simply request that his majesty 
shall abolish episcopacy and the Church of England, 
and give up to their tender mercies all who have aided 
him in his rebellion against them.” 

A growl from the circle saluted these words. All 
faces darkened. The queen looked around her. 

“ You see, gentlemen, there is no retreat now for me 
or for you. We are to die on Tower Hill, or on the 
field of battle, fighting bravely. Which do you choose, 
messieurs?” 

The words raised a tumult. The queen listened with 
glowing eyes to the hoarse noise around her. Suddenly 
she caught, from the ground near, a small dress-sword, 
and drew it. She wrapped a scarf around the hilt of 
the bright steel weapon, and attached it to her slender 
waist. Then, rising, she threw the scabbard from her 
violently, and exclaimed, — 

“ Here is my answer !” 

Two hours afterwards, I was riding towards Oxford 
beside Harry, who bore back the queen’s reply. I 
had solicited and obtained this favor: to live beside 
Frances Villiers had become an agony to me. We 
had scarce interchanged more than a few words of 
common politeness since the evening at Helvoetsluys : 
to be near her, even, was wretchedness to me, and I 
embraced the first opportunity to leave her. 

And this voluntary absence from her side now made 
it necessary to explain all to Harry. To his laughing 
demand how it was possible that I had courage to sepa- 
rate from the young lady, I replied, — 

H 15 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


170 

“Little courage is requisite, Harry. I live in a 
dream, yonder, near her, — in alternate torpor and 
fever.” 

“You have ” 

“Yes, and she has rejected me; but that is the least 
of it.” 

“ Rejected you ? Oh, Ned ! — my poor Ned !” 

“ Don’t pity me, Harry. I am a man, and hearts 
don’t break in our family on such occasions. Some- 
thing more than a love-disappointment fevered me 
yonder.” 

“More ?” 

“The thought that you looked upon me, perchance, 
as a poor weak creature that loved a woman more than 
I loved my brother or my honor !” 

“Your meaning, Ned ! Who dares to say that you 
love not your honor ?’ ’ 

“ None, thank Heaven ! You least of all must think 
that, Harry. But listen ! you shall know all. ’Tis 
but recently that I learned the truth. You sacrificed 
your love to me, — well, I sacrifice mine to you. She 
told me all. Shame burned in me like fire, brother, 
when I thought of your last words after Edgehill. Do 
you think I’ll let my brother break his heart for me? 
I swear I will not ! Go and love Frances Villiers more 
than ever, and tell your love. Women are weather- 
cocks. For myself, Harry, I’ll go no more. My game 
is played, — I have lost her; but I have your love, 
Harry, and that’s enough !” 

I think a groan came as I finished. Harry leaned 
over and put his arm on my shoulder. His eyes shone 
through a sort of mist. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


171 


“ Didn’t I say that night that I’d back Ned Cecil 
for a brother against any man in England? Well, 
brother, we are left to each other. For myself, I’ve 
done with the fair Frances, who’ll no more look at me 
than at you, Ned. What bad taste ! Well, court 
her or not, as you fancy, — but remember one thing, 
brother, she’s not going to have an opportunity again 
of becoming Mrs. Harry Cecil.” 

I knew what the words meant, — that my brother 
would not stand in my way ; and I swore to myself that 
I would not stand in his. I raised my head, after this 
resolution, and looked at Harry, smiling. 

“ Miss Villiers won’t be annoyed, it seems, by the 
importunate Cecil family hereafter,” I said; and then, 
by common consent, we spoke of other things, riding 
on through the night. 

Running the gauntlet of my lord Essex’s cavalry 
parties between York and Oxford, we finally reached 
the latter place, and in one of the grand palaces of the 
grand city saw his majesty again. He was pleased to 
give me his hand to kiss, and to ask after the health 
of my father. My detention in Holland had been 
explained in the queen’s dispatches ; and now, losing 
sight of me and all else, his majesty read the queen’s 
response to his letter. 

As he read, the pale and melancholy face flushed red, 
and the eyes grew soft. I see the king’s face now, — • 
long, covered with the pallor of trouble, the lips sur- 
mounted by the delicate mustache, the royale long and 
pointed beneath the chin, and the eyes sometimes cold 
and austere, but oftener full of brooding sadness. 
“Doomed” was written on that countenance; ’twas 


172 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


only when he thought of the queen that fire came to 
the eyes, and they flashed. 

“ My brave wife !” he murmured, as he refolded the 
letter : ‘ ‘ here at least is one heart that does not 
despair. * ’ 

He turned to Harry and myself. 

“ Thanks, gentlemen,” he said ; “ ’tis my happiness 
to have near me friends so faithful as the Cecils. Faith- 
ful hearts are pure gold in my eyes, and I lean upon 
them. The times are dark, gentlemen, the issue of 
this struggle doubtful ; but, if we fall, let us fall with 
honor, — as gentlemen should fall. That is my resolve. 
My enemies are bitter. They hate my brave queen even 
more than they hate me, and were she to fall into their 
power their mad passion might lead them to take her 
life, as they may take my own. Well, so let it be: the 
more need that we should act like brave men. For 
myself, I mean not to falter. As king, I defend my 
crown ; as gentleman, I defend my wife.” 

As the king spoke, the door opened, and Viscount 
Falkland entered, sad, with his air of gracious dignity 
mixed with melancholy. 

“ A last proposition, your majesty,” he said. “I have 
just received this note from Mr. Hampden, and beg to 
lay it before your majesty.” 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


173 


IV. 

I GO WITH LORD FALKLAND TO HIS HOUSE OF GREAT TEW. 

As Lord Falkland spoke, he approached the king, 
and, inclining his head with profound respect, presented 
a letter. 

“ From Mr. Hampden?” 

“Yes, your majesty.” 

The king perused the letter, and then, looking up, 
said, — 

“ ’Tis a forlorn hope, Falkland: nevertheless, you 
must accept Mr. Hampden’s proposal. Meet him, 
therefore, with one attendant, as he requests. ’Twere 
well to be private ; and as these gentlemen present are 
in the secret, take one of them.” 

Lord Falkland, who had already saluted, with his air 
of sweet courtesy, my brother and myself, turned now, 
and said to me, — 

“ You have heard his majesty, Mr. Cecil. If it please 
you, I should be glad to have you go with me.” 

I bowed low, no little gratified to have my Lord 
Falkland recall my face and name so long after our 
chance meeting in Prince Rupert’s tent near Not- 
tingham. 

“Your lordship does me very great honor,” I said, 
“and may dispose of me now and always.” 

“ The speech of a gallant young cavalier !” was the 
reply of the nobleman, with his air of smiling courtesy. 

15* 


174 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


“ Be good enough to await me in an hour, sir : we will 
then report.” 

A moment afterwards, Harry and myself were in the 
antechamber; and an hour afterwards, I was riding 
beside Lord Falkland, who was attended only by an 
ordinary groom, towards his palace of Great Tew, not 
far from Oxford. 

I shall always recall that ride with one whose great 
figure illustrated the epoch. His converse riveted 
me, and was inexpressibly charming. They say now, 
in this new age, that all men are equal. Is that true ? 
Were there many human beings the equals of this one? 
Friend, that doctrine of equality is a chimera. Some 
men are born to command, as to draw all hearts. This 
was one such, and the mere rank had naught to do 
with it at all. Edmund Cecil was not the equal of 
Lucius Cary ; and a thousand demagogues cannot per- 
suade him to the contrary ! 

“ It is needless to make a mystery of our errand, 
Mr. Cecil,” he said. “ The worthy Mr. Hampden, of 
the parliament cause, requests a private interview with 
me. He is pleased to say that my well-known modera- 
tion, and his own sincere desire for peace, may unite 
to effect something; and there is this satisfaction in 
dealing with Mr. Hampden, that one may be confident 
throughout all of his irreproachable honor.” 

“ I think of him as you do, my lord ; and I once met 
and conversed with him upon public affairs,” I said. 

I narrated then my encounter with Mr. Hampden 
on the high-road in Buckinghamshire ; and when I had 
finished, Lord Falkland said, — 

“ I recognize the worthy gentleman there, sir ; and 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


175 


would to Heaven we could agree upon some terms, and 
so end this terrible war. ‘Peace! peace!* is all my 
lips seem able to utter in these dark days. Our poor, 
bleeding country !” 

He uttered the words slowly, his head drooping, and 
a deep sigh issuing from his lips ; and we rode on in 
silence. 

At last the magnificent grounds of Lord Falkland’s 
mansion of Great Tew opened before us ; and, riding 
through a great park full of deer, and dotted with cen- 
tury oaks, towering above us in the sunset, we drew 
near the stately edifice. I have seen in my time the 
admired palaces of the noblemen of France, Holland, 
and other lands ; but sure the houses of the lords of 
England surpass those of all other countries. In this 
new land I pine sometimes for another sight of those 
great old houses, — centuries old, built of massive ma- 
terial, adorned with lavish splendor, — the abodes of a 
race who have struck their roots deep into the soil of 
Old England throughout ages, — who raise their heads 
like great oaks in the sunshine and the storm, and who 
will stand or fall, I think, with the strength and glory 
of England. 

The broad front of Great Tew, with its mullions, 
armorial devices in stone, and battlements, rose fair in 
the sunset; and Lord Falkland ushered me in, with 
his smile of gracious courtesy, between a double line 
of domestic servants, who seemed to crave some mark 
of recognition from their master. It was not withheld. 
For each he seemed to have a word ; and I think he 
addressed almost every one by name. ’Twas plain to 
me that the master of the mansion was beloved by all 


176 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


who served him ; and I can scarce convey an idea of 
the atmosphere, so to speak, of kindness and affection, 
throughout the stately old house. 

An hour afterwards, dinner was served, and I had the 
pleasure of being presented to Lady Alice Cary, his 
lordship’s niece, — a charming maiden of twenty, — 
whose sparkling eyes seemed to be seeking on all sides 
food for mirth or satire. It was the Beatrice of Will 
Shakspeare. After an hour with her, I thought he 
must have known her ! 

The interview with Mr. Hampden was to take place 
at sunrise on the next morning, at a point designated, 
a league or two distant ; and Lord Falkland had just 
summoned his head-groom to give him an order, when 
a message from the king was announced, and Harry 
entered the great reception-room. 

“Welcome, Mr. Cecil,” said Lord Falkland, — one 
of whose winning traits was to know the name of every 
one. He extended his hand as he spoke, — the model 
of a gracious host, — and then, turning towards Lady 
Alice, presented Harry, who bowed low. 

“A note from his majesty, my lord,” Harry said, 
presenting a package, which Lord Falkland opened 
and read. Finishing its perusal, he allowed the hand 
holding the royal letter to fall over the red velvet arm 
of his chair, and, looking down, murmured, — 

“ ’Twas unnecessary.” 

I afterwards ascertained that the king had written 
to say that in the interview with Mr. Hampden there 
must be no manner of discussion on the subject of sur- 
rendering any of his friends to parliament. They had 
heretofore demanded that he should give up his aiders 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


177 


and advisers. He wrote now to say, once for all, that 
he would die, sword in hand, before adding another 
name to that of Strafford. 

“I will reply at once to his majesty, Mr. Cecil,’ ’ 
said the nobleman. And, going to his library, he was 
absent for half an hour, during which time Lady Alice 
Cary did the honors with excellent grace and ease. 
What trait is more rare? With two young gentlemen, 
strangers but now, she was not stiff, but gracious and 
even mirthful ; and when Lord Falkland returned, he 
interrupted something resembling a wit-combat between 
Harry and our fair hostess. 

But I linger upon this charming evening, the first 
and last I ever spent with the great Lord Falkland. 
’Tis one of the sweetest and saddest memories I have 
treasured up. You remember the august orb of the 
sun, slowly sinking in pensive splendor, when you are 
never to see him rise more on earth. 

Harry returned with Lord Falkland’s reply; and by 
midnight I was asleep in one of the great old chambers, 
full of antique furniture, rich, massive, and used, per- 
chance, by kings in their day. At sunrise I was in 
the saddle, and riding beside Lord Falkland. The 
dewy morning smiled upon us ; the air was fresh and 
bracing; the March winds were chill, but the fields 
were growing green ; the first flowers seemed about to 
peep out from the budding grass. 

“See,” Lord Falkland said, “the face of nature 
wears a peaceful smile ! What a pity, Mr. Cecil, that 
men should frown and cut each other’s throats !” 

“ The most piteous of all piteoqs things, my dear 
lord,” I replied. 

B* 


78 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


“ And yet that is what we are doing in Old England 
now. Men who but yesterday clasped hands, and sat 
as brothers around the hearthstone, can find no better 
means of composing their differences than to blow each 
other to pieces with musketry and cannon ! * ’ 

“ Yonder is one who deprecates that as much as 
you do, my lord,” I said ; and I pointed to a mounted 
gentleman who sat his horse motionless at a spot where 
the road we traveled was crossed by another at right 
angles. Behind this figure was another, — apparently 
an attendant. 

“ ’Tis Mr. Hampden,” said his lordship: “ he 
awaits us.” 


V. 

THE LAST GREETING. 

The two noblemen — they were such, were they not, 
reader? — advanced, and exchanged a warm grasp of 
the hand. 

“I am honored by your prompt compliance with the 
request conveyed to you, my lord,” said Mr. Hampden. 

“ I esteem it an honor in my turn to meet Mr. 
Hampden,” said Lord Falkland, with his gracious 
courtesy. “ I have come with only a single gentleman, 
— an acquaintance of yours, I think, sir.” 

“ I know Mr. Cecil very well, and would fain call 
him my friend,” said Mr. Hampden. 

And he held out his hand to me, a friendly smile 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


179 


upon his noble face. That smile was extraordinarily 
similar to Lord Falkland’s. What was it that made 
these two men resemble each other like brothers ? I 
think ’twas the great soul in the bosom of Hampden, 
as in the bosom of Falkland. 

They rode aside, walking their horses slowly over 
the deserted road, and, reaching a great tree, dis- 
mounted and engaged in earnest converse. The dis- 
tance was not so great that I could not discern every 
detail of their appearance. They faced each other, 
holding their bridles, and Mr. Hampden leaning one 
hand on the pommel of his saddle. With his dis- 
engaged hand, Lord Falkland made grave gestures. 
The conversation seemed earnest, but slow and almost 
solemn. I did not remove my eyes from them. The 
personage attending Mr. Hampden was a taciturn 
civilian of middle age, whose name I had not heard 
distinctly when Mr. Hampden presented him to me. 
Thus we remained silent, gazing at our principals. 

In about two hours the interview terminated, and 
the two gentlemen came back on foot, and leading the 
horses, who hung their heads as though saddened like 
their masters. 

“Well, well, Mr. Hampden,” Lord Falkland said, 
as he drew near, “ God knoweth if good will come of 
this free converse we have held ; but may he give us 
peace. I am a bad ambassador, I fear, sir. I would 
fain, were I asked to draw up articles, take a sheet of 
paper and write solely the word ‘ Peace’ upon it. That 
would sum up all, in my eyes. ‘ Do not let us wrangle 
about terms,’ I would say. Hearts opposed to each 
ptber ^re bitter, and see things in other lights. But 


180 her majesty the queen. 

all may see how blessed peace — only peace ! — would 
prove to England. These terrible opposing flags, — 
only to furl them, and extend the hands of brethren 
towards each other ! The roar of cannon drowns all. 
Silence that fearful sound, and let us meet with mutiial 
forbearance. For myself, sir, I would give not only 
my right hand, but my very heart’s blood, to see 
the sun of peace — blessed peace — rise over England 
again !” 

As these noble and earnest words were uttered by 
Lord Falkland, I saw the face of Mr. Hampden flush, 
and he bowed low with profound respect. 

“ I recognize in these words the great soul of your 
lordship,” he murmured. “ Would to God we had 
more such men as yourself in England to-day !” 

He was silent for an instant. Then he added, — 

“What your lordship has done me the honor to 
communicate, respecting his majesty’s views and wishes, 
will be repeated to the parliament as you desire, my 
lord. Would to Heaven I could convey to the gentle- 
men of that body the manner in which your lordship 
has spoken! I think hatred and rivalry would shrink 
away before the very tones ! Now I will return.” 

He paused again, and added, quickly, — 

“ Do you know, my lord, I have a presentiment?” 

“A presentiment, Mr. Hampden?” 

“That my days are numbered, — that I shall soon 
leave this arena of contention. Have you never had 
similar presentiments, my lord?” 

“Last night,” was Lord Falkland’s calm response, 
and his eyes were fixed gravely upon the face of his 
eompaniop. “ I know not if ’twere a dreapi or a wak 


ItER MAJESTY TltE QUEEN. i$t 

ing vision,” he said, “but I saw myself lying dead 
upon the battle-field last night.” 

“Strange!” Hampden murmured: “ my presenti- 
ment came last night too. And I too saw myself fall. 
Is not that singular, my lord?” 

Lord Falkland shook his head with a sad smile. 

“Naught is singular or strange to me in this world,” 
he replied. “ I believe in presentiments. I believe I 
shall die soon ; and I am not sorry, Mr. Hampden.” 

He leaned towards the other, and added, in a low, 
almost inaudible tone, the words, “We shall meet, I 
trust.” 

With a close pressure of the hand, the two men 
mounted their horses, saluted each other, and rode 
off in opposite directions. 

It was their last greeting on earth ; but I think the)! 
have clasped hands yonder in heaven, the realm of 
peace. 


VI. 

CHALGROVE. 

My memory is a gallery of pictures, dark or bril- 
liant, gay or sombre. Here is one of them, which I 
look at through the mists of many years. 

It was a night of June, flooded with moonlight; 
and under the boughs of a great oak, not far from the 
village of Chinnor, Prince Rupert stood leaning one 
gauntleted hand upon the pommel of his saddle, and 
16 


I § 2 HER MAJESTY THE QtJEEN. 

bending his head as though he were listening. Within 
five paces of him stood Lord Falkland, — a calm, sad 
figure in the bright moonlight. From the wood came 
the stamping of cavalry horses, beside which stood or 
lay their riders, bridle in hand, and ready to mount. 

Prince Rupert had sallied out of Oxford, attacked 
an outpost of the parliamentary army, and driven the 
enemy ; had then pushed on to Chinnor, where he 
attacked and routed a second force ; and now he was 
waiting for a brief space that his men and horses might 
rest before resuming their march back to Oxford. 

Lord Falkland had ridden with the prince, more, it 
would appear, from a desire to divert his mind from its 
eternal brooding, than from any wish to take part in 
the fighting of the expedition. Indeed, every one had 
recently noted in my lord viscount a weary unrest. He 
was sad unto death, and seemed unable to remain in 
one place. His dress was almost slovenly; his fine 
person was utterly neglected. The roar of guns alone 
seemed to arouse in him a temporary sort of excite- 
ment ; and now in every encounter the men saw his 
tall form in the midst of the smoke, an idle spectator 
as ’twere, giving no orders, unarmed wholly, and in- 
spired, ’twould seem, by nothing more than a languid 
curiosity. 

Those who knew this great man best, and talked with 
him at that time, explained this indifference to me after- 
wards, and I no longer wondered. Falkland was con- 
stitutionally fearless, and despaired of his country. If 
he did not seek death, he cared naught for it. 

As the prince bent his head, listening, the far sound 
of hoofs came from his right. He turned in that direc- 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 183 

tion, and a flood of moonlight, passing through the 
dense June foliage overhead, lit up his proud face and 
figure. He wore his full-dress uniform, and the golden 
decorations were dazzling. Around his waist was 
knotted a red silk sash, rich, heavy, and with superb 
tassels. His sword-hilt sparkled in the moonbeams. 
On the heels of his fine cavalry boots glittered golden 
spurs. Such was this young and headlong soldier. 
From spurred heel to plumed beaver, in eye and lip 
and attitude, he was all cavalier. 

“They are moving, yonder,” he said to Lord Falk- 
land, “and I think your lordship will see some more 
fighting.” 

“I am sorry, highness,” was Falkland’s sad reply. 

“ Well, we think differently, my lord. I am glad !” 
was Rupert’s impulsive reply. 

His eyes sparkled as he spoke, and he turned to 
summon an attendant. The gigantic Hans, his huge 
black beard grasped by his huge hand, stood like a 
Scandinavian statue near. 

“Hans!” 

“Yes, highness.” 

“I am general !” 

“Yes, sheneral.” 

“Order the men to mount; and send me a staff- 
officer.” 

Hans disappeared in the darkness, and in five min- 
utes the wood resounded with the noise of spurs, 
stirrups, and broadswords, clashing together as the 
troopers got into the saddle. At the same moment a 
staff-officer hastened up, and the prince gave him an 
order. I had come to report the result of a recon- 


18 4 HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 

noissance I had made beyond Chinnor, and was about 
to go now, when the prince stopped me with a gesture. 

“ Remain. My staff-officers are absent, and I need 
some one,” he said, briefly. 

The prince then set out at a rapid gallop in the 
direction of the sound we had heard, Lord Falkland 
galloping in silence beside him, I following. 

As we went on rapidly through the moonlight, the 
sound in front grew more distinct. The distant bark 
of dogs and crowing of cocks mingled with it. 

“A man of brains commands the enemy’s front,” 
Rupert said, halting suddenly and listening. “A force 
of horse is moving to cut me off at Chiselhampton 
bridge; and unless I can pass Chalgrove before they 
reach that point, I must cut my way through.” 

“Your column is moving, highness.” 

Falkland pointed over his shoulder, as he spoke, to 
the long lines of the royal cavalry advancing steadily, 
with their full forage-wagons — the object of the expe- 
dition — in rear. 

The prince nodded. 

“ The race is close, my lord, for all that, and not 
decided yet.” 

“For the bridge ?” 

“ Yes. If I knew the enemy’s force, I would not 
care. My own is small, and theirs may be great. I 
may be cut off from Chiselhampton bridge.” 

“ What will you do then, highness? I ask from idle 
curiosity, merely: we civilians listen to soldiers with 
respect. ’ ’ 

Prince Rupert turned quickly. 

“ You are no civilian ! You are a soldier born, from 


NEE MAJESTV tNE QUEEN. 185 

crown to foot ; soldier, soldier , my lord, — if soldier 
means the clear brain, the fearless nerve, and the hero 
heart ! Well, I speak as soldier to soldier, — there is 
no path to Oxford save over the bridge yonder.’ * 

“Then ” 

“ Yes, my lord, — you will pardon my interruption, 
— yes, I do not mean to surrender, and one thing is 
always left to a soldier.” 

“That is ?” 

“To die, sword in hand,” said Rupert, laughing. 

As he spoke, he turned to me. 

“ Order my column to take this road, inclining more 
to the right, towards Chalgrove,” he said; “the men 
to advance at a steady trot and prepare for action.” 

He pointed to a country road coming into the main 
highway. I saluted, went at full gallop to the head of 
the column, and delivered the order ; then I returned 
to the prince, who was riding rapidly with Lord Falk- 
land over the road to the right. 

The quick smiting of hoofs came more and more 
clearly on the night breeze. The hostile columns were 
rapidly converging towards Chiselhampton bridge. 

“Here is Chalgrove,” said the prince, suddenly, as 
he emerged upon a large field, bathed in moonlight. 
“If we can pass ahead of them, then we need give 
ourselves no further trouble. The bridge is gained.” 

He was not to pass. As the prince, riding a short 
distance in advance of his column, entered upon the 
great field, a dark mass was seen advancing from the left 
to cut him off. There was no longer any possibility of 
reaching the bridge without a combat. Shouts from 
both forces were heard, — line of battle was quickly 
16* 


1 86 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEtf. 


formed, — and, sword in hand, at a thundering gallop, 
the opponents rushed together. 

It is hard to describe a fight under the daylight, — a 
night combat is wholly indescribable. Shouts, cheers, 
the clash of weapons, the crack of pistol and musque- 
toon, horses rolling over, with wild shrieks, men dying 
with curses on their lips, in the darkness, — that is the 
aspect of a night encounter. 

The fight at Chalgrove was such. A painter might 
delineate the rushing, trampling, gleaming conflict; I 
cannot. For the rest, a few moments after the col- 
lision, I kept my eyes fixed upon one figure. 

In front of the enemy, and superbly mounted, I saw 
Mr. — now Colonel — Hampden. I knew afterwards that 
the move to cut Prince Rupert off was due to his military 
energy and brain : Chiselhampton bridge he saw was 
the point to guard : a mounted force was speedily 
moving; leaving his own infantry regiment, he took 
command of the horse, and moved so rapidly as to cut 
off his able opponent Rupert. 

The prince, fighting in front of his men like a com- 
mon soldier, saw the great figure of Hampden. 

“Who is that officer?” he said hurriedly to Lord 
Falkland, who was calmly riding beside him. 

“ ’Tis Colonel Hampden, — God preserve him !” 

As Falkland spoke, I saw the figure of Hampden 
reel in the saddle. He was within ten paces of us, and 
the moonlight made everything plain. 

As he reeled back, his eyes met those of Falkland. 

“See ! I am wounded — to the death, I fear, my lord,” 
he cried, in a broken voice. “Remember — we shall 
meet again 1” 


majesty the queem . t g 7 

As Hampden uttered these words, a sudden rush of 
his own men carried him away. The parliament horse 
had broken and were flying in wild disorder. When 
we saw Hampden last, his head was drooping, and he 
leaned for support on the neck of his horse, two men 
assisting him from the field. He had received two 
bullets, we afterwards heard, in the shoulder, the bone 
of which was broken ; and from these wounds he soon 
afterwards died. 

As his figure disappeared in the moonlight, followed 
by his men in disordered retreat, I heard Lord Falk- 
land murmur, — 

“ Farewell, Hampden ! Yes, we shall soon meet 
again, I think.” 

A bugle-note came like an echo. It was the recall 
being sounded. Rupert moved on to the bridge, 
crossed, and proceeded on his way to Oxford, after the 
successful skirmish of Chalgrove field. 

A skirmish ; — but in that mean little encounter fell 
one of the greatest men of England. 


l88 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


VII. 

NEWBURY. 

Such is one of the pictures in that long gallery of 
memory I spoke of. Shall I try to describe another ? 
The name of the first picture is “ Chalgrove;” the 
name of the second is “Newbury.” 

It was the dewy dawn of a September morning, and 
the forests were burning away, flushed with the fiery 
hues of autumn. A dreamy and memorial sadness 
seemed to fill the air, and not a breath of wind agitated 
the foliage, as the light in the east deepened. It was 
an enchanting landscape of field and forest and ham- 
let ; peace reigned over all, as I think it always seems 
to reign on the eve of battle. And this day the sem- 
blance was as deceptive as usual, for the royal and parlia- 
mentary armies were in face of each other, and about 
to close in in combat. 

The king had prospered of late ; but the tide seemed 
turning. Rupert had stormed the battlements of Bris- 
tol and reduced that city; but the king had been com- 
pelled to raise the siege of Gloucester. My lord Essex 
entered it, but saw best to retreat soon on London. 
His majesty thereupon followed quickly. Suddenly 
the opponents found themselves in face of each other 
near Newbury. ’Twas the morning of the great battle 
there that I have tried to describe, — a dreamy morn of 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 189 

September, when the coo of the ring-dove seemed an 
appropriate sound, not the bellowing of cannon. 

I emerged at full speed from a copse towards the royal 
line of battle, having ridden as close as possible to the 
enemy’s front to ascertain their position. 

“ Good-morrow, Mr. Cecil,” said a calm voice near ; 
and, turning my head, I recognized Lord Falkland sitting 
his horse motionless on a grassy knoll, from which he 
looked with sad eyes towards the enemy. 

I checked my horse and saluted profoundly. 

“ Do you know that your lordship flatters me very 
greatly by recalling my face and name ?” I said. ‘ ‘ ’ Tis 
a way to win hearts, were they not already your lord- 
ship’s.” 

The nobleman bowed. 

“ You do me an honor and a pleasure, Mr. Cecil. 
But why should I not recall your name, and your face 
too?” 

“ I am obscure, my lord ; the king’s secretary of state 
might well lose sight of me.” 

He shook his head. 

“In this world, Mr. Cecil,” he said, “there is 
neither high norHow. Is the worm on a leaf so much 
higher than one on the ground? All are poor and 
insignificant alike. ’Tis the heart that makes the 
gentleman, not the star on the breast. And is there 
anything nobler than to be a true gentleman? I know' 
of nothing. To be a peer of the realm is but 
little.” 

He turned his eyes towards the enemy, and was silent 
for a moment. 

I iporalize for your amusement, sir,” he said, “ but 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


I90 

I am somewhat sad to-day. I have been thinking of 
poor Hampden and of our appointment. * * 

He uttered the last words in a low tone and with a 
singular expression. 

“You were present at our interview yonder; — did 
you hear our last greeting, Mr. Cecil ?’ ’ 

“ I heard it, my lord,” I replied, in a low voice. 

“And again on Chalgrove field, last June, when that 
great man was wounded to the death ; — did you hear 
the words he uttered ? — * Remember , we shall meet again /* 
he said; and do you know I think that meeting will be 
soon?” 

He smiled, as he spoke, with the sweet and noble 
composure habitual to him. 

“ See, this is not a fancy of the moment, my friend,” 
he said. 

And, holding up his arm, he called my attention to 
the extraordinary richness of the silk and velvet com- 
posing his dress. 

“ I donned this fine suit,” he added, with the same 
sad smile, “ that the enemy, when I fall, shall not find 
me look slovenly or indecent.” 

“ When you fall, my lord ! I pray you choose your 
phrases in presence of one who ventures to say that his 
love for you is great. Say if you fall, not when , I 
beseech your lordship. * ’ 

Falkland shook his head. 

“Do you know the saying of the Orientals, my 
friend, — ‘ The word uttered is the master ’ ? I have said 
* when I fall ;’ I add ‘ when I fall to-day .’ ” 

My head drooped. In presence of this profound 
composure and hopelessness J was powerless to struggle. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


I 9 I 

“ Your lordship smiles,” I murmured, at length. “ I 
know, as all England knows, that you are the bravest 
of the brave ; I did not know that so great an intelli- 
gence yielded to fancies and presentiments.” 

As I spoke thus. Lord Falkland turned his head and 
looked at me with his extraordinary sweet smile. ’Twas 
a face exquisitely noble that I looked upon at that 
moment. 

“ God is good to his creatures in many ways, my 
friend,” he said. “ Shall I speak my whole heart, and 
explain his goodness to me in forewarning me of my 
death ? The moment will be a happy one to me. I 
am weary of these times, and foresee much misery to my 
country ; but I shall be spared that. My eyes will not 
see it. I shall be out of it ere night.” 

I think I must have sighed grievously, for Lord Falk 
land added, quickly, — 

“Do not lament thus, my friend. What is death? 
’Tis a bugbear that frightens children or cowards, not 
men. I fear it not. And yet ’twould be pardonable 
were I to regret leaving the world. . My station in it is 
honorable ; my taste for the pursuit of learning and 
mental pleasures — the only true ones — is great; my 
household I believe love me ; and his majesty does me 
the honor to confide in my faith, though I once strove 
in parliament to deprive him of some powers deemed 
by him his just prerogatives. I have loved liberty and 
struggled to secure it. When its friends went farther 
and attempted the overthrow of monarchy, I left them. 
In that decision I have never wavered, and think that 
falling under the royal flag I fall under the flag of 
England. But l weary you, Ml Cecil ; and, wh&t is 


192 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


worse, perhaps I detain you. You are a soldier on 
duty ; I only a poor civilian wandering to and fro and 
musing. Farewell, sir ! You are young, and God grant 
you may see happier days. I am not old, but am rather 
weary of my life. I shall disappear while the sky is 
dark still, and not see the sun shine again.” 

I pointed to the sun, which soared at that moment 
above the forest. 

“See, my lord,” I muttered, through tears that 
seemed choking me, “there he is shining.” 

“ ’Tis to set soon ; and, short as that time will be, I 
shall not see it.” 

He turned his. horse as he spoke, made me a salute 
full of gracious kindness, and disappeared in the wood. 
As I lost sight of him, a single cannon roared across the 
fields. Echoing shouts rose from the woods far and 
near as the grim sound was heard; and suddenly Rupert 
at the head of his horsemen burst like a thunderbolt 
upon the enemy. 

I have no heart to enter minutely into the details of 
the battle of Newbury. One picture only stays in my 
memory, and will stay always. Prince Rupert’s charge 
broke the enemy’s horse, but they rallied, and again he 
made a headlong charge. Before this second charge 
they fled, hotly pursued by Rupert ; but suddenly we 
came upon the enemy’s infantry armed with their long 
and deadly pikes, which pierced the bodies of the horses 
or hurled their riders from the saddle. 

From this hedge of steel the cavaliers of Rupert re- 
coiled. He was forced to fall back, and, riding beside 
him, I saw his face flaming hot, his eyes flashing. With 
hoarse an4 strident voice he endeavored to rally his 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


193 

men. In this he at length succeeded ; and as he formed 
a new line I heard loud exclamations near. 

I turned my head quickly. At the same moment an 
officer rode up to Prince Rupert. 

“Well!” the prince exclaimed. 

“Lord Falkland is shot, my lord !” 

Without a word the prince went at full speed towards 
the group pointed out. Scarce aware of the breach of 
discipline, I spurred from the ranks of the Guards and 
followed. At the spectacle which met my eyes a groan 
forced its way from my bosom. The nobleman lay on 
the sward, his head supported upon the shoulder of an 
officer. His face was as pale as death, and his breast 
was bloody. His eyes were closed, but his lips smiled. 

“ My lord ! my lord ! Speak, I pray you !” exclaimed 
Prince Rupert, in a broken voice. 

Falkland opened his eyes, and, from the position of 
his head, saw me first. 

“Ah ! ’ tis you who spoke, my friend,” he murmured. 
“Well, see my presentiment !” 

He ceased, breathing heavily; but in a moment he 
resumed : 

“I said — my heart bled — for my country, but I would 
be out of it ere night.” 

His eyes were fixed upon the blue sky above him. 

“Here I am, friend,” he murmured; “I thought 
’twould not be long.” 

I alone knew to whom he addressed those words. 
As they left Lord Falkland’s lips, his head fell back, 
and he expired. Even in death the noble face retained 
its expression of exquisite sweetness, and the lips wore 
the same sad smile, 

I 


» 


17 


194 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


The battle of Newbury, like the combat of Chalgrove, 
decided little, for Essex fell back in the night. 

But Falkland was gone — like Hampden ! Who could 
take their places? For me, who knew them and loved 
them as founts of honor, there were no others like them. 
When they disappeared, I felt as though England were 
accursed. 


VIII. 

I MEET WITH AN OLD ACQUAINTANCE IN DISGUISE. 

With a single incident in the autumn of 1643 I pass 
on. 

I was one of a mounted party on a reconnoitring 
expedition south of Oxford, when we saw approaching 
our woodland bivouac a party of three persons, consist- 
ing of a tall sad-looking man and a very beautiful young 
girl, with the trooper who had arrested them. It soon 
appeared upon the highway. 

As they drew nearer, I rose quickly from the grass 
upon which I was lying, and looked at them attentively, 
certain that the man and girl were old acquaintances. 
The last rays of sunset illumined their figures as they 
came, — they had now drawn near, — and I rose to my 
feet, recognizing Gregory Brandon and his daughter 
Janet. 

The terrible headsman, with whom I had conversed 
on that night of my adventure in Rosemary Lane, 
seemed older, more melancholy, and more timid. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


195 


Janet was even more beautiful ; and there was some- 
thing saintly in the thin face with the white cheeks 
and great soft eyes. She was perfectly calm ; but her 
father was trembling, — not so much from fear, I think, 
as from a chronic disorder of the nerves. 

The young girl, who was plainly but neatly clad, 
looked around calmly. Her eyes fell upon me, and 
were riveted for an instant to my face ; then I saw a 
slight color rise to her white cheeks. 

“I see you recognize us, sir,” she said, in her low 
sweet voice. “ Please say that we are not enemies of 
the king, but do not say aught more.” 

The latter words were uttered in a whisper almost. 
Her father evidently heard them, for he clasped his 
hands and looked at me in a most beseeching manner. 

“ Who are these people?” said the young officer in 
command of the reconnoitring party. 

“Arrested on the high-road, lieutenant,” said the 
man escorting them, touching his hat; “orders to stop 
everybody and get information ; found this old one and 
young one out tramping, and brought ’em along.” 

“ Right !” said the young officer ; and, turning to the 
headsman, — 

“Your name, and where were you going with this 
damsel ?” he asked. 

“ My name is Gregory, good sir, and I live with my 
daughter yonder in the small house in the valley ; we 
were returning from a neighbor’s when we were stopped 
and brought here.” 

“That account is straightforward, friend; but the 
times are dangerous. You may belong to the other 
faction; and I will keep you prisoner.” 


196 her majesty the queen, 

“Not my daughter too, sir!” exclaimed the heads- 
man. 

“Needs must, friend.” 

The headsman looked at me with a beseeching ex- 
pression, and I interposed. 

“This old man is known to me, lieutenant,” I said; 
“I vouch for him, and propose that you apply the 
cavalier test.” 

“Good! — in case you vouch for him, Mr. Cecil; 
and your proposal is fair.” 

A flagon was quickly produced by one of the men 
and filled with wine. This was handed to the heads- 
man, and the young lieutenant said, — 

“What is the health that all good Englishmen drink 
first ?’ ’ 

The headsman’s face flushed quickly, and, raising the 
flagon, he exclaimed, — 

“ God save King Charles !” 

He emptied the flagon to the last drop, and the young 
officer clapped him gayly on the back. 

“That satisfies me, old man!” he said. “No one 
can bring out a round 4 God save King Charles I* of 
that sort, and be disloyal under all. You are free, and 
your pretty daughter. Return home ; and as you know 
this worthy man, Mr. Cecil, I counsel you to go with 
him and make him give you a good supper in return 
for your championship. ’ ’ 

I was about to refuse, but the maiden Janet looked 
at me significantly and made me a slight gesture. I 
therefore saluted the lieutenant, detached the bridle of 
my horse from the bough over which it hung, and, walk- 
ing beside the headsman and his daughter, went towards 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. ig>j 

the small house which they had pointed out as their 
dwelling. 

“ I humbly thank you, sir,” said the headsman, in his 
earnest tremulous voice, when we were beyond hearing: 
“you have been kind in procuring our release.” 

“ I try to repay the debt I owe you and your daughter, 
sir,” I said. “ But for her, I had perished one night in 
London. You no longer live there?” 

“I fled thence,” was the low reply. t “My fearful 
office of headsman became horrible in my eyes. Things 
are growing frightful, and no one knows whose head 
may fall.” 

He groaned as he spoke. 

“I know that that others know not,” he muttered, 
in a terrified whisper. “The new leaders are merciless. 
They are hungry for blood. Already they have resolved 
to execute Archbishop Laud ; and think ! ’twas / who 
must perforce, as headsman of London, sever the gray 
head of that poor old man from the emaciated body ! 
You start, sir, and refuse to credit that, I see ! — but 
even worse may come.” 

The speaker’s voice was wellnigh inaudible as he 
uttered the last words. 

“You are a friend of the king,” he whispered: “when 
you return, say to him, ‘ Do not fall into the hands of 
your enemies, or trust them.’ The blood of nobles 
and bishops is not enough to satisfy them.” 

He turned fearfully pale. 

“ They thirst for his !” 

It was rather an awe-struck murmur than aught else. 
The thought seemed to overwhelm the speaker. 

“So I fled from them,” he added, at length; “pike 
17* 


198 


HER MAJESTY THE Q C/E EM 


or dagger at my throat would force me to my terrible 
office. For I am a coward, sir, — a wretched coward ! 
I should not resist them : so I fled from London. Here, 
in the small house you see yonder, once my father’s, 
I have hid myself with my Janet. God grant that we 
may lie here unnoted, and that I may not break my 
oath !” 

I looked at the speaker, whose brow was bathed in 
icy sweat. 

“ Your oath ! What oath?” I asked, struck by his 
expression of terror. 

“The oath of the headsman to perform his office 
whenever an order is brought him,” he whispered. 
“ The oath is a fearful one, and binds soul and body. 
From the moment the order comes, the condemned no 
longer belongs to the law. The headsman enters his 
cell, touches his shoulder, and says, ‘ You now belong 
to me!’” 

I could not % forbear recoiling from the personage 
beside me. He had thus spoken often. 

“You are right, sir,” he groaned. “I am accursed, 
and dare not offer my bloody hand to an honest man.” 

The girl turned her eyes swimming in tears upon 
him. 

“But you will shed no more blood, father,” she 
murmured, in a broken voice. “The past is fearful; 
but it is past, and will never return ; and you have me , 
father , — I will take your hand.” 

With a burst of tears she caught one of his hands, 
and, throwing her other arm around him, leaned sobbing 
upon his bosom. 

The headsman raised his eyes to heaven. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


199 

“ Thank God, this is left me!” he said; “the love 
of the one I love best.” 

We had come in front of the small house, — a cottage 
under a large elm near the roadside. 

“I will not ask you to come in and sup with the 
headsman of London,” said the old man, in alow voice ; 
“ but one is here now, very sick, and desirous of seeing 
some one from the king’s army.” 

“A sick man?” 

“ Or child, sir; I know not which.” 

“ His name?” 

“ He calls himself Geoffrey Hudson.” 


IX. 

ANGEL AND PIGMY. 

In a few moments I stood beside a bed, in which lay 
the dwarf, who had disappeared suddenly after his fatal 
duel with Coftangry in Hampton Court Park. 

He was terribly emaciated, and resembled a puny 
infant. His cheek-bones protruded, his sunken eyes 
rolled in their cavernous hollows, and the white lips 
drawn tightly across the teeth distorted the mouth into 
a species of grin. 

“Mr. Cecil !” he exclaimed, in his piping voice, as 
soon as he saw me. “Is it possible an old friend has 
discovered and visits me ?’ ’ 

“ Yes,” I said, “ by a singular chance. But how do 
I find you here ?” 


200 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


His explanation was very simple. After the death 
of his adversary at Hampton Court, he had fled, fear- 
ing punishment, and wandered about England awaiting 
the moment when the fatal duel would be forgotten. 
He had finally repaired, when the war broke out, to 
the army of Prince Charles in the west ; had enlisted 
as a trooper, acquired the friendship of his commander, 
and was sent, spite of a wound he had received, to 
carry a message to the king, then near Reading. 
On the way his wound had broken out afresh; and he 
had fallen from his horse at the door of the excellent 
Mr. Gregory: that good man and his daughter had 
nursed him with tender care ; but his wound had not 
closed, his life seemed ebbing away; good fortune 
had sent him at last, however, the sight of a friendly 
face, and the means of forwarding his message, out of 
date though it must be. 

All this the dwarf communicated in a rapid and 
feverish voice; he then gave me the message, which 
was no longer of any importance : thereafter we con- 
versed on all the events which had taken place since 
our last meeting. 

During the conversation the maiden Janet passed in 
and out, caring tenderly for the invalid ; and it was 
after her disappearance on one of these occasions that 
the dwarf, who had been silent for some moments, said, 
in a low voice, — 

“ I wish to live.” 

I looked at him. His face had flushed. 

“ You say that in a singular tone,” I said. 

He hesitated, and seemed anxious, but afraid, to 
speak. 


Her majesty the quEeJv. 2 oi 

“This maiden has made me cling to life,” he said, 
at length, in a low voice. 

“ This maiden ?” 

“ Yes ; I love her with my whole being ! I have only 
lived since we met. You are a friend, even an old 
friend ; I am here dumb and alone on this bed : I must 
speak to some one of this. Yes, the wretched, dis- 
torted pigmy loves this rose-bud, who is an angel !” 

The feverish eyes glowed brilliantly. 

“She has watched over me "like a sister,” he went 
on; “she has supplied all my wants; her white hand has 
smoothed my pillow, and I have felt her pitying tears 
fall upon my face !” 

“Well,” I said, with deep emotion at this love of 
a deformed being for the daughter of one who was a 
social outcast, — “well, your love is not strange. This 
maiden is heavenly goodness in person.” 

“ And beautiful ! very beautiful !” 

“Yes,” I said. 

“While I ” 

The poor being stopped suddenly. An acute pang 
seemed to distort his features. 

“While I,” he added, in a low voice, “am a de- 
formity, a monster wellnigh, — a poor, wretched pigmy !” 

He groaned piteously, and went on in a feverish 
voice : 

“And yet how can I avoid this? I am a man, how- 
ever small I be in stature, am I not ? Has not a dwarf 
eyes, and a heart, and blood, and loves and hatreds ? 
Poes the height make the man?” 

His face grew savage. 

“I have killed many six-footers in my life!” he 
I* 


202 HER MAyESTY THE QUEEtf. 

growled. “They despised me, but they fell before 
me ; and yet not one of them, not the meanest full- 
grown man, but would have been preferred to me.” 

I could find nothing to say, save, — 

“Do not yield to these sad thoughts: ’twill retard 
your recovery.” 

“I care not whether I live or die,” said the poor 
creature, groaning. “ Can she ever love me ? No, 
no, no, no ! Oh, thank God that you were not born a 
deformed pigmy ! — thank God for your limbs and 
stature and human appearance ! You are a man, not 
a dwarf, — one a woman may love, not a cur she may 
tread beneath her heel and despise ! To love and be 
laughed at ! it is frightful, and drives me mad ! She 
does not laugh at me, but pities me, with the pity of a 
woman for a pet lap-dog !” 

His tones were so passionate and pathetic that I 
could scarce find words to reply. 

“At least,” I said, at length, “you have no rival; 
you are spared that. And your love may melt her.” 

“No rival? How know I that?” he exclaimed. 
“ Even now some one may be approaching who will 
snatch her from me ! — some man who will laugh to 
scorn my deformed anatomy, and take from me all I 
live for!” 

He had scarce spoken when the young girl hastily 
entered the apartment. “Save yourself, sir!” she ex- 
claimed, addressing me. “ I see a party coming who 
from their uniform must belong to the parliament !” 

I rose and put on my hat. 

“ Farewell !” I said to the poor dwarf, extending my 
hand. “And do not despair.” 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEH. 


203 

His small hand gripped mine, and he drew me down, 
whispering, — 

“You will say naught of this madness. If I recover, 
I will return to court. If I die, at least ’twill be here.” 

“ I will say nothing; but you will not die.” 

“Oh, hasten ! hasten!” cried the young girl, look- 
ing through the window. “ They are almost at the 
house ! And there is that terrible man at their head, — • 
that Hulet, who has persecuted me daily, wellnigh, since 
he chanced one day to come hither !” 

I had not time to question the maiden. The party 
of mounted parliamentarians were nearly at the door. 
I had just time to seize the bridle of my horse and 
throw myself into the saddle, when they charged me, 
firing, and ordering me to surrender. 

My response was to discharge my pistol at Hulet 
and retreat at full gallop. They pursued me to the 
edge of the woods, where they drew rein at last, re- 
turning towards the house ; and, going on at a gallop, I 
met my friends, who had been alarmed by the shots, 
coming to meet me. No time was lost in pursuing in 
our turn. Our force outnumbered that of the enemy, 
and we chased them for more than a mile. Then, 
however, encountering at least a regiment coming to 
their assistance, we were compelled to retreat, hotly pur- 
sued; and, finding himself powerless to contend with 
such a force, the officer commanding our party retired 
to Oxford. 

I had caught a glimpse, and only a glimpse, of a sin- 
gular drama. Other scenes were to be hidden ; but a 
strange chance was to show me the denouement. 


BOOK IV, 


i. 


BEDFORD HOUSE IN EXETER. 

The winter of 1643-44 dragged its slow steps 
along, — a dreary time to us in camp, for the Guards 
were now part of the regular army ; and the coming of 
spring was hailed by all with rapture. Regard it in 
what light you may, war is disgusting when it means 
“winter-quarters.” You mope in your tent, with the 
rain dripping, dripping; no movement, sunshine, or 
adventure cheers you; and the jests and old stories 
become so wearisome at last ! Even Harry’s charming 
good humor failed to cheer me. 

For a long time now we had not uttered the name 
of Frances Villiers, nor had we even seen her. Harry 
never went near her, and I remained as faithful to my 
resolution. Such was the singular result of the love of 
two men for a woman. Neither would speak to her, — 
poor damsel ! 

So the winter passed away. The king and queen 
held their court at Oxford, undisturbed by hostilities. 
Protracted negotiations filled up the time; but these 
came to nothing : arms, and arms alone, it was seen, 
(204) 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


205 

could decide the great issue. And with the coming of 
spring both sides prepared to renew the struggle. 

The queen’s condition forbade her to remain near 
her husband in the exciting time which approached. 
She was near that period when the holy claims of mater- 
nity render serenity, absence of anxiety, and physical 
quiescence necessary. It was a long time, I heard 
afterwards, before the king could persuade the queen 
that a journey to the west was essential. She consented 
to this with sobs and tears, and it was the saddest of 
faces that was seen through the window of the royal 
coach as it set forward, escorted by his majesty, one 
April day, towards Abingdon. 

I was one of the small troop of Guardsmen detailed 
to accompany the king and queen. Half of the troop 
preceded and half followed the three carriages which 
held their majesties and the ladies of the queen’s 
suite. And among these ladies was Frances Villiers, 
— calm, earnest, beautiful, devoted, as I had always 
seen her. 

More than once on the journey my eyes encountered 
her own, but, after the first quiet and gracious salute 
which the young lady bestowed upon me in response to 
my own, no evidence of recognition was given on either 
side. The fair one cared naught for me, or that pas- 
sionate love of hers for the queen dwarfed every other 
sentiment. 

At Abingdon their majesties parted, — the queen’s 
face streaming with tears, and the king’s voice trem- 
bling. For the last time I witnessed that profound and 
almost passionate devotion of these two human beings. 
They clung to each other for a moment \ the wet faces 
18 


20 6 her majesty the queen. 

touched : a heart-broken sob came from the lips of the 
queen, and she leaned her head, like a suffering child, 
on the bosom of Frances Villiers, watching through 
tears the retreating figure of her husband. 

I did not return with the king, but remained with 
her majesty, in obedience to her commands to that effect. 
The queen was pleased to say to his majesty, in my 
presence, that I had proved myself one of the most 
faithful and devoted of her servants ; and I was com- 
missioned by the king to bear a letter from him im- 
mediately to Sir Theodore Mayherne, formerly court 
physician, returning with the great doctor to the queen 
at Exeter. 

On the next morning, accordingly, I set out for the 
residence of the physician, a country-house in the 
neighborhood of Salisbury, and, having the good for- 
tune to evade the enemy’s horse, found him, and de- 
livered the king’s note. 

Sir Theodore Mayherne was more like a thunder-gust 
than before ; scowled terribly at me as I stretched my 
weary limbs in an arm-chair; and his long gray hair 
was tossed about his leonine head in a more eccentric 
manner than ever. 

“Here’s a pretty kettle of fish!” he roared. “A 
pretty pother her majesty is raising ! This is no time 
to be bearing children ! Children ! To be plagued 
with them, when cutting throats is the fashion !” 

I knew my host by this time, and only laughed. 

“So the note I bring you, Sir Theodore, is a sum- 
mons to attend the queen ?’ ’ 

“A summons? Yes, it amounts to that. Read!” 

I took the paper, and read these words: — 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


207 


‘*Mayherne : — 

“ For the love of me , go to my wife. 

“C. R.” 

1 ‘There it is!” thundered the leonine personage, as 
1 gave him back the king’s letter. “ ‘C. R .,’ — Carolus 
Rex / The time comes when men are stripped of their 
trappings: here is a plain man who wants a doctor 
for his wife /” 

“ So the worthy Sir Theodore Mayherne is one of 
the godly?” I said, laughing. “ I did not know that.” 

“ One of the devilish — if I belonged to the party of 
such rogues!” growled the physician. “Curse every 
one ! If there’s anything I despise more than a stuck- 
up, ruffling, dice-rattling court popinjay, it is a psalm- 
singing, puritanical, hypocritical rascal. Now I’ll go.” 

This eloquent speech seemed to relieve Sir Theodore 
amazingly. He ordered his carriage, put a change of 
linen in a portmanteau, swallowed a hasty meal, and — 
his groom riding my horse — we set out for Exeter. I 
will not stop to repeat the eccentric physician’s talk on 
the way; and yet it was admirably entertaining. Never 
have I seen so queer a mixture of traits. In the midst 
of a tirade of withering scorn and denunciation of 
something or somebody, he would burst out with a roar 
of laughter, go on in a strain of the richest and broad- 
est humor, snatch a bottle of wine from the pocket of 
the coach, thrust the neck into my very mouth, and, 
slapping me on the back, salute me with, “ Ho, my 
learned Theban! drink! drink!” then take a sip 
himself, thrust the bottle back, and begin denouncing, 
storming, growling, laughing again. Never was such 


208 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


a strange mixture; never had profound science and 
great faculties of head and heart been hidden beneath 
so strange an outside. 

Thus the journey passed, and we reached Exeter, 
where the queen was to await Sir Theodore. We found 
that she had just arrived, and had taken up her resi- 
dence in Bedford House, a large and commodious 
edifice, where there was ample room for herself and 
her suite. 

What was my astonishment, as the coach of Sir 
Theodore Mayherne drove into the court-yard, to see 
Sir Geoffrey Hudson, the dwarf, whom I had last en- 
countered near Oxford, come walking forth gravely 
from the royal apartments ! I afterwards learned that 
he had been ill throughout the winter, had finally 
recovered and left the house of the headsman, and on 
the very day of the queen’s departure from Abingdon 
had presented himself before her, and been received as 
if naught had happened ; and here the pigmy was usher- 
ing the great physician and myself into the queen’s 
presence. 

Her majesty was seated in a large apartment, attended 
by only one or two ladies. Her appearance was fever- 
ish and excited. 

“Ah, here you are, Mayherne!” she exclaimed. 
“Welcome ! you come promptly.” 

“It is the duty of a physician, madam. What’s 
the matter now?” 

The growl had lost none of its force. The physician 
scowled at her majesty Queen Mary as he would have 
done at the wife of his groom. 

For response the queen blushed, and said, — 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


209 

“I have a fever. Parting with his majesty was a 
terrible trial at such a time as this.” 

“Well, why did you part?” 

“He required me to do so; and you know, May- 
herne, a wife must obey her husband.” 

She smiled sweetly as she spoke : the feverish face, 
with the sparkling eyes and the red cheeks and lips, 

. was very beautiful. 

“Required her!” growled the physician. “As if 
with that face a woman doesn’t rule 1” 

“What do you say, Mayherne?” asked the queen, 
feverishly. 

“I say your majesty is sick.” 

“That is great intelligence, truly! Oh, I am very 
sick indeed, — sick in mind and body. I am afraid I 
shall go mad some day. ’ ’ 

“Your majesty need not fear that,” growled the 
cynical personage. “You have been so for some 
time.” 

“Out on your abuse of me!” exclaimed the queen. 
“You are as fierce as a wolf, Mayherne. Feel my 
pulse.” 

She extended her hand to the physician, who gazed 
at her with a singular mixture of satire and tenderness, 

“I’ll go through no such farce as feeling your pulse,” 
he said. “To what advantage? You are a woman, 
and your ailment is one that most women have at one 
time or another, — fever, fits of depression, nervous- 
ness, hysterics, fear of mice and spiders, Send away 
these handsome young maidens around you, madam ! 
Lady Morton can stay, if she chooses : if she doesn’t 
object, I don’t. This is a simple ailment, in which 
18* 


210 her majesty the queen. 

your majesty is going to be worse before you are better. 
Send off the maidens !” 

The maidens had already scattered in dismay from 
the apartment. They had an awful dread of the sar- 
donic Sir Theodore, who always managed to say what 
shocked them. I had witnessed this interview from 
the doorway, through which the young ladies now 
vanished. I closed the door, and know nothing further 
of the interview. 

Early in June was born, at Bedford House, the Prin- 
cess Henrietta Anne. 

A fortnight afterwards, her majesty, in her weak and 
prostrate condition, was informed that the Earl of 
Essex, in command of the parliament forces, was rapidly 
approaching Exeter with a view to capture mother and 
babe, — the queen to be escorted to London to be tried 
for treason. 

Strange and tragic drama ! One would think that 
Fate might have spared the pale young mother clasping 
the few-days-old babe to her bosom and fondling it. 
The poorest rests there, and is surrounded by care and 
tenderness. This mother — so much poorer in another 
sense of the word — was to hear the tramp of soldiery 
growling curses and threats against her; was to nar- 
rowly evade death ; and, more than all, was to be parted 
in those first sacred moments from her babe ! 

Make me a tragedy, O poet ! I make none : I record 
simply the memory of what I’ve seen. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


211 


II. 

I AM SENT WITH A FLAG TO LORD ESSEX. 

The rumor of Lord Essex’s approach was speedily 
followed by the appearance of his cavalry vanguard on 
the high hills northeast of Exeter. 

I was looking from an upper window of Bedford 
House, when I saw clear cut against the sky the figures 
of armed men, on spirited horses ; and these descended, 
followed by others. In a few minutes a column of 
light dragoons was defiling into the plain. 

I went at once to give information of the enemy’s 
approach to her majesty, and she commanded that I 
should be introduced into her sitting-room, where she 
lay upon a couch, holding her babe resting upon her 
right arm, passed beneath the little one’s neck. The 
attitude of the queen was exquisite, and her pale face 
was quite illuminated by the charming smile of the 
mother who looks at her babe. 

“You have something to communicate, Mr. Cecil?” 
she said. 

“Yes, your majesty; ’tis my duty; and yet I shrink 
from performing that duty. ’ ’ 

The queen smiled. 

“Iam brave, I think, sir ; not happy in my fortunes, 
it may be, but not unnerved yet. Speak, Mr. Cecil.” 

“ The enemy are in sight, your majesty, approaching 

Exeter , ” 


212 her majesty the queen. 

She closed her eyes, and her lips moved. I think it 
was in prayer. 

“God’s will be done!” she said, a moment after- 
wards; “and I expected this intelligence. Oh that I 
had some of the brave friends of the king to go and 
meet them !” 

Her face flushed, and from the beautiful eyes darted 
a sort of fire. It quickly died away. 

“I must banish these feelings,” she murmured; “I 
am no longer anything but a poor mother trying to 
escape with my child.” 

Some moments passed in silence. The queen was 
evidently reflecting. 

“I must send and parley with Lord Essex,” she said, 
at length ; “ the woeful days have come upon me, and I 
must act as I best may.” 

I advanced a step and bowed low. 

“If your majesty will permit me to be so bold as to 
offer myself ’ ’ 

“Yes, yes ! This is not the time for ceremony.” 

And, rising to a sitting position, the queen clasped 
her babe to her bosom, and said, — 

“Yes, — go to my lord Essex; I will give you a line 
as your credentials. Inform him of my condition ; say 
that I am very ill, and that I crave his permission- 
hateful, odious term ! — Oh, it is too much !” 

Her eyes flashed, and her voice shook. 

“This is folly,” she murmured: “yes, yes, — ask his 
august permission that I may retire with my child from 
Exeter before the place is invested. I will go to Bristol 
or Bath. I cannot bear, in my present condition, the 
alarms of a siege.” 


her majesty The queen 1 . 2 tj 

With a feverish hand she wrote a line on a portfolio 
which Frances Villiers, at a sign from her, brought and 
held before her. This she gave me hastily. Half an 
hour afterwards I was spurring at full speed out of the 
city, waving a white scarf upon my sword’s point, to 
indicate my errand. 


III . 

LORD ESSEX. 

A mile from the city I nearly ran into the column 
of dragoons, whose commander, seeing me approach, 
ordered a halt. He was an officer in the uniform of a 
colonel, and said, coolly, — 

“ You bring a flag of truce, sir. Is it for the surrender 
of the city?” 

I shook my head. “ A missive for Lord Essex.” 

“ From whom?” 

4 ‘From her majesty the queen.” 

The officer reflected a moment. “Give me the 
missive.” 

“I am ordered to deliver it into the hands of Lord 
Essex.” 

“Lord Essex is not here present.” 

“Doubtless, sir, he can be found nevertheless.” 

“You refuse to deliver your credentials to myself?” 

“I obey my orders.” 

“ Right, sir. You are a soldier. Two troopers to 


214 & ER majesty the queeh 

escort this officer to his lordship,” he added, to a staff- 
officer. 

Five minutes afterwards, I was again on my way, — 
passing a long column of cavalry. Behind these ap- 
peared foot-soldiers. The force was heavy. 

At last the men drew rein at the foot of an eminence, 
upon which I saw a group of mounted officers, and the 
tall figure of Lord Essex, whom I knew by sight, was 
seen in the centre of the group. I rode up to him and 
saluted. He gazed at me with attention, evidently 
recognized my Guardsman’s uniform, and said, — 

“You are from her majesty, sir?” 

“ Yes, my lord.” 

“Iam sorry to hear it,” he said, gravely. 

“I have a missive from her majesty for the hands 
of your lordship.” 

“ Give it to me.” 

He extended his hand, and I presented the queen’s 
letter, at sight of which I saw a cloud pass over his 
brow. 

“This is a wretched business!” he muttered. “I 
know the contents of that paper, and I do not wish to 
read it.” 

His chin sunk upon his breast, and his brows were 
knit together. 

“ Her majesty has given birth to a daughter, has she 
not, sir?” he said, in a low tone. 

“Yes, my lord.” 

“A handsome child?” 

“ Yes, my lord.” 

“ What name does she propose to give the princess, 

sir?” 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


215 


“Henrietta Anne, if I do not mistake, my lord.” 

Lord Essex uttered a deep sigh, and slowly opened 
the letter, which he perused thoughtfully, folded up, 
and placed in his breast. 

“I was mistaken: this paper is merely your cre- 
dentials, sir, and her majesty asks simply a verbal 
response.” 

I bowed, and waited. 

“ I am loath to give it.” 

He spoke in tones of deep depression, and I gazed 
at him attentively. The nobleman and the soldier 
were contending in him, fiercely. 

“It is not possible,” I said, “that your lordship 
can refuse the request I come to make, — namely, that 
her majesty may be permitted to retire with her child 
from Exeter before the place is invested? She is ex- 
tremely feeble, since the princess is but a few days old, 
and the privation and excitement of a siege might be 
fatal to both mother and babe.” 

As I spoke, an expression of great pain came to the 
face of the general. 

“ Cursed war !” he muttered ; “ why did I ever em- 
bark in it ?” 

“Your lordship said ” 

“That I am powerless, — utterly powerless ! I can do 
nothing ! But now came my orders from the people 
in London ! The crop-eared — bah ! whose fault is it 
that I’m here but my own ?” 

His teeth were set together as he spoke. 

“ Return to her majesty, and say,” he added, “ that 
Lord Essex, if he were untrammeled, would send her a 
guard of honor and his own coach to convey her 


2t6 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


whither she would go, — that General Essex, of the 
parliamentary forces, cannot grant her request to leave 
Exeter.” 

“ Your lordship cannot possibly ” 

“Act like a ruffian? Yes, sir! I am not Lord 
Essex; I am a servant of these people, and these are 
the orders from my masters !” 

He flirted at me, rather than presented me with, an 
official-looking document which he drew from his pocket. 
I glanced at it, and saw that it was an order to seize 
the queen and escort her to London, where she was to 
be tried by parliament for treason in levying war upon 
England. 

The sight of the paper filled me with indignation. 

“And your lordship will not disregard this outrageous 
order?” 

“I cannot.” 

“And yet your lordship commands here: the civi- 
lians yonder are a poor set !” 

“Sir, I am a soldier : I obey orders !” he growled. 

“And her majesty will be tried for treason?” 

“ You see,” he said, coldly, pointing to the paper. 

“And his majesty, if he be captured, will he too 
be tried for the same offense, — the penalty of which is 
the axe of the headsman ?’ ’ 

Lord Essex turned pale. “ Let us terminate this 
interview, sir!” he said, almost hoarsely. 

“As your lordship will!” I said, unable to control 
my indignation. “ For my part, I know the side that, 
as an English gentleman, I’ll adhere to 1” 

A fiery glance replied to this covert insult ; but Lord 
Essex immediately made me a ceremonious salute. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 217 

“Each gentleman decides for himself, right or 
wrong, sir,” he said, austerely. “Say to her majesty 
the queen that I am pained to refuse her request, in 
consequence of orders which I am not at liberty to 
disobey. I am ordered to convey her to London to be 
tried for treason, to which is attached the death-penalty; 
and I shall probably invest Exeter before midnight.” 

I looked keenly at Lord Essex. Was this a notice 
to the queen to escape? I could not determine, and, 
bowing, turned my horse’s head to ride back. 

“A moment, sir,” said Lord Essex, approaching 
me. “ Is her majesty in bed?” 

“ On her couch, my lord.” 

He hesitated. 

“In a condition to be moved?” 

“Scarcely,” I said, guardedly. 

“ Because ” 

And Lord Essex looked at me, leaving the sentence 
unfinished. Then he saluted, turned away, and with 
my escort I rode back, soon entering Exeter again. 


K 


*9 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


2iS 


IV. 

THE FATE OF A QUEEN. 

The result of my mission showed that her majesty 
could expect no favor from Lord Essex ; and prepara- 
tions were begun with a view to her escape. 

There was no choice but to leave the babe behind ; 
and it was long before her majesty could be brought to 
this cruel resolution. 

“ My poor child !” she sobbed, with tears streaming 
from her eyes, “how can I leave you, — perhaps for 
months, — perhaps for years? Oh, I cannot, cannot !” 

She hugged the baby to her bosom, with passionate 
sobs, and covered its small face with kisses. 

“It breaks my heart to leave you!” she sobbed; and 
then she began to prattle baby-talk to it, holding it 
tightly to her bosom, and looking at the little round 
face through her tears. 

There was no alternative, however. The child could 
not possibly accompany her on the arduous journey 
she must make. And that attempt to escape was a dire 
necessity. Once captured and taken to London, her 
fate would decide the fate of the whole conflict. With 
his queen in the hands of her relentless enemies, the 
king would yield his crown rather than see her blood 
flow. She must escape, — leaving her child, against 
whom no order of seizure had been issued. Perhaps a 
kind Providence would soon enable her to secure pos- 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


itg 

session again of the infant ; and meanwhile the ladies 
of her suite left with the princess would tenderly care 
for her. 

Night came, and the queen had formed her resolu- 
tion. She would take one cavalier, one lady of her 
suite, and her confessor, and steal forth on foot. All 
her preparations were rapidly made. Her money and 
jewels were placed in a casket ; the whole party were 
disguised in plain clothes; and, remembering Lord 
Essex’s intimation that the place would be invested 
before midnight, I hurried the arrangements for the 
escape. In spite of everything, however, it was nearly 
daylight before the party left Bedford House. I was 
witness of the parting between her majesty and her 
child. I cannot dwell upon it ! — ’twas agonizing. With 
a burst of tears, she at length tore herself away, leaving 
the baby in charge of Lady Morton and Frances Vil- 
liers, and, leaning upon my arm, for I had been selected 
to accompany her majesty, went forth, a lonely fugitive, 
— worse still, a poor mother without her babe. 

We passed the city gates, which were guarded by a 
sentinel. He permitted us to pass, regarding us, in 
our plain clothes, as country-people. Already in the 
east a faint streak of dawn was seen ; and at every 
moment, as we hurried on, I expected to encounter 
some part of the hostile force. As yet none appeared. 
Had Lord Essex delayed his advance for many hours 
after the time announced by him , — “ before midnight” ? 
I like to think so. 

We pressed on. The light in the east grew brighter. 
All at once a dull sound issued from beyond a clump of 
woods which we were traversing, and I said, quickly, — . 


220 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEtf. 


“That is the enemy, your majesty! We must seek 
some place of concealment.” 

“Oh, very gladly!” the queen murmured; “my 
strength is wellnigh exhausted.” 

I saw a hut in the wood, not far from the road. The 
windows had been torn from their hinges, and the 
desolate appearance of the place indicated that it was 
uninhabited. 

“Here is a hiding-place, your majesty,” I said; 
“lean your full weight upon my arm, and endeavor to 
hasten.” 

The queen panted, and I could feel her leaning 
heavily upon my arm. She clung to me, almost ex- 
hausted, and her head half fell upon my shoulder. 

“Oh, I cannot go farther!” she murmured; “my 
strength is quite exhausted. Save yourself! — go, leave 
me! I will die here.” 

I drew her on rapidly. 

“Come, your majesty! I said; “here is the hut.” 

“I can go no farther.” 

“Then I at least will die with you.” 

“ No, no ! I will try ” 

And she tottered on. The gleam of arms was already 
visible through the woods, and I heard the close tramp 
of the soldiery. 

“A few more steps, and we are saved!” I said. 

The queen went on with faltering steps, leaning 
heavily upon me, and we all reached the hut. As we 
entered it, the head of the enemy’s column emerged 
from a bend in the woods. Had they discovered us ? 
I knew not ; but there was the chance of having eluded 
their observation. The hut was empty, save that a pile 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


221 


of straw lay in one corner. In this I speedily made 
an opening, begged her majesty to lie down, and cov* 
ered her with the straw. The maid of honor and father 
confessor rapidly concealed themselves in the same 
manner; and, lastly, I made myself a burrow beside 
her majesty, and hastily covered my person, leaving 
only a loophole to look through : then we lay still. 

I had scarce concealed myself, when the enemy’s 
column began to pass within a few yards of the hut. 
They were burly, begrimed, close-cropped pikemen, 
who uttered rough jests to each other as they tramped 
on by the hut ; and many of them turned their heads 
and looked in, as they passed. 

Suddenly the talk of some of the men attracted my 
attention ; and I listened with a sinking heart. 

“We are going to catch the Canaanitess at last!” 
said one, with a laugh. 

“The Jezebel!” said another. “It was she who 
brought arms and money from over seas to help the 
malignants !” 

“We will have her before night,” said a third. 
“Parliament has offered fifty thousand crowns for her 
head. She’ll be in London soon, to be tried for 
treason; and then hey for the fine sight on Tower 
Hill ! The axe is sharpened already, and Gregory 
Brandon will make short work of her, the painted 
French !” 

Oaths, imprecations, and ribald jests finished the 
sentence, which was only a specimen of their talk. 
The queen lay perfectly still. The column tramped 
on. The day broadened ; the hours passed on. Still 
the army continued to defile by, no doubt slowly iq- 

19* 


222 her majesty the queen. 

vesting the city, in order to shut in the hoped-for 
prey. 

It was not until night that the troops ceased to pass. 
I then cautiously emerged from my place of conceal- 
ment, and, in a low voice, inquired of her majesty how 
she felt. 

“Oh, so weary!” she murmured; “but, thank God, 
we have not been discovered.” 

“ The enemy have passed on, your majesty.” 

“ Doubtless Exeter is invested.” 

“Yes, madam.” 

I could hear the queen weeping quietly ; then there 
came in a murmur, interrupted by a sob, “ My poor 
babe!” 

“Do not grieve for the princess, your majesty,” I 
said: “she is quite safe, and will not be molested. 
And now I will go reconnoitre.” 

The result was discouraging. The vicinity was filled 
with rabble followers of the army, whose bivouac-fires 
sparkled in wood and field. More than once dusky 
figures passed near the hut; and finally I was com- 
pelled to hastily re-enter my place of concealment. 
There, in the pile of straw, the queen and all of us lay 
until the next evening, — without food, surrounded by 
the enemy, — not daring to move. I have often thought 
since of that terrible time, vainly asking myself how 
this poor mother, just risen from her sick-bed, sustained 
that ordeal of fasting. It remains incomprehensible. 
Was it the fever of excitement which bore her up ? 

At length the welcome shades of night came, and the 
vicinity of the hut seemed free at last of enemies. I 
assisted the queen from her place of concealment, and 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


223 


summoned the rest of the party. Their appearance 
was almost comic. The worthy priest was covered 
with straw, and the fair maid of honor looked utterly 
woe-begone. 

There was no time now to lose. The queen’s des- 
tination was Plymouth, where she hoped to find a 
harbor of refuge ; and, tottering on, she managed to 
proceed, with the support of my arm, over the road 
trampled to a quagmire by the horses of the army- 
wagons. At an humble house I managed to secure 
some food for the party ; we then hastened on as 
rapidly as the queen’s exhausted condition would per- 
mit; and thus passed the long hours of the night. To- 
wards morning we found ourselves in Dartmoor Forest ; 
here another deserted hut gave us shelter, and, to our 
great satisfaction, several ladies and gentlemen of the 
queen’s suite, who had escaped in disguise by different 
gates of Exeter, joined her, and cheered her by in- 
telligence of her babe’s well-doing. 

Towards evening we ventured forth again, deter- 
mining to run the risk of encountering scouting-parties. 
We had scarce started, however, when the tramp of 
hoofs was heard behind us, and through the twilight a 
horseman was seen coming on at full gallop. 

I drew my rapier, and turned to meet the new- 
comer, resolved to supply her majesty with a horse. 

“ Halt !” I ordered, as he drew near; but the rider 
came on at full speed. I presented my weapon at the 
animal’s throat and prepared to seize the bridle, when 
suddenly I recognized the dwarf Geoffrey Hudson. 

“ Ho ! ho !” I said ; “ ’ tis you, then !” 

“With a horse for her majesty,” said the pigmy, 


224 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


leaping to the ground. “I dismounted a six-footer 
with a bullet to procure it. ’ * 

And, walking gravely with the bridle of the tall ani- 
mal thrown over his arm, the pigmy approached the 
queen, made her a formal salute, and said, — 

“ I beg your majesty to accept my horse: my cloak 
will serve your majesty for a cushion.” 

He threw the right-hand stirrup over the saddle, 
spread his velvet cloak — a mere baby garment — over 
all, and, holding the bridle for the queen to mount, 
made another low salute. 

“You are a faithful friend, Geoffrey,” said the 
queen, smiling sadly ; “and indeed I am exhausted.” 

I hastened to assist her majesty to mount, and she 
uttered a sigh of relief. The poor weary foot in its 
half-worn slipper was thrust into the stirrup, I took 
my place beside her majesty’s rein, and then the whole 
party advanced rapidly through the gloomy Dartmoor 
Forest towards Plymouth. 

It was a strange and silent march, and a strange 
party. A queen and a bevy of noble young ladies, in 
rough clothing, worn and dusty ; gentlemen, once 
ornaments of the court, in the garb of plowmen; 
and in front of all, striding on with grave dignity, a 
pigmy being, — the dwarf, — whose appearance was that 
of a babe, save that at his side he wore a good sharp 
sword. 

We reached the vicinity of Plymouth, but there dis- 
covered that the place was dangerously favorable to 
parliament. It was necessary to proceed still farther, 
in the direction of Falmouth ; and, emerging from a 
wood, we perceived a large castle crpwning a promorp 


1IER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


225 

tory. A countryman passed at the moment, gazing 
curiously at our party. 

“ What castle is that?” I said. 

* ‘ Pendennis, ’ ’ was the brief response. A second ques- 
tion drew forth the information that a gentleman of 
the royal party commanded at the castle. We hastened 
on joyfully, were received with enthusiasm upon an- 
nouncing ourselves, and at last her majesty was in a 
place of refuge. 

“The news from Exeter, sir?” she said hastily to 
the officer commanding. 

“It is regularly invested by Lord Essex, your maj- 
esty ; but his majesty the king is said to be advancing 
by forced marches to relieve the place.” 

As he spoke, the officer looked curiously forth. 

“What is the matter?” the queen inquired, with 
sudden agitation. 

“A courier, your majesty, from the way he rides.” 

And, soliciting permission to leave the apartment, the 
officer went to meet the man. In fifteen minutes he 
returned, bearing a dispatch. 

“For your majesty,” he said, presenting it with a 
bow. 

“Is it possible? How was my presence here dis- 
covered ?” 

“The courier entered Exeter just as the enemy ap- 
proached the place, and, discovering from some one of 
your majesty’s, suite that you had left the city to go 
westward, followed you, heard of you by the way, and 
has reached you with his majesty’s missive.” 

“ His majesty !” cried the queen ; and she hastened 
to open the letter. 


226 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


As she read it, her pale face flushed with happiness , 
then she turned pale, and let the letter fall in her lap. 

“ Oh, I cannot ! I cannot !” she exclaimed. 

As she uttered these words, her eyes encountered my 
own. 

“ He commands me to sail for France ! — to leave 
England ! — him ! — my babe ! Oh, no ! no ! I can- 
not ! I will not !” 

And the queen began to tremble, her eyes filling 
with tears. Brushing them away with one of her 
thin hands, she rose and went to the chamber prepared 
for her. An hour afterwards she summoned me to her 
presence, and said, in a broken voice, — 

“I sail for France to-morrow, — there is a ship in 
Falmouth harbor, sent by my son, the Prince of 
Orange. — His majesty orders me to go, — mark me, 
orders me to go ! I dare not disobey him ! — My heart 
is breaking ! — Oh, my child ! my child ! my poor, 
poor little deserted babe ! I will not ! Oh, no ! no ! 
I cannot ! Who would ever think me aught but a 
wretched, heartless mother ! But my husband — he 
commands me, saying in that letter there that my cap- 
ture loses him his crown.” 

The poor queen rose, wildly clasping her hands. 

“But to leave my child! my little one but a few 
days old ! — my little babe that looks at me already 
laughing from her eyes, as though she loved me even 
now ! Oh, what can I do ? — My heart is broken ! — I 
can never leave her; — but the king, — his crown — I 
will — obey my husband ! ’ ’ 

The queen tottered, and I caught her in my arms as 
she was falling. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


227 


V. 

THE COURAGE OF A WOMAN. 

TwENTY-four hours after this scene, the queen, ac- 
companied by her suite, had embarked for France. 

A leaden torpor seemed to weigh her down. She no 
longer sobbed, cried, or exhibited indeed any emotion 
whatever. Seated upon the deck of the vessel, she 
looked back towards the English coast, in the direction 
of Exeter ; and we who stood around her dared not 
intrude upon that august despair. 

Others less ceremonious, however, were speedily to 
appear upon the scene. 

The vessel containing her majesty was making straight 
for the port of Dieppe, on the French coast, and had 
long left the English headlands behind, when through 
a slight mist there appeared indistinctly the outlines of 
several sail, — cruisers, it was feared, under the flag of 
the parliament. 

The commander of the queen’s vessel carefully re- 
connoitred through his glass, and then, closing it, an- 
nounced that this fear was correct. His only hope now 
was to pass them unseen, or uncared for, and he crowded 
on all sail for that purpose. 

Suddenly an ominous 4 * boom” echoed from the fog, 
and a cannon-shot passed in front of the vessel, dip- 
ping and disappearing. 


228 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


It was the signal to stop. The commander looked 
at the queen. 

“That is an order to heave to, your majesty,” he 
said. 

“Well, sir?” said the queen, in a low, monotonous, 
apathetic voice. 

“I await your majesty’s orders.” 

“ My orders?” 

“ Shall I proceed, or obey the signal, your majesty?” 

“ Proceed.” 

The vessel continued its way, dancing upon the 
waves, now rising before a fresh gale, and dashing the 
foam from her cutwater. 

Suddenly a second shot came, and this time it passed 
over the deck of the vessel. 

“ This is becoming somewhat dangerous for your 
majesty,” said the captain. “What shall I do?” 

“Iam ordered by my husband,” said the queen, in 
the same low, monotonous voice, “ to leave England to 
avoid capture, and sail for France.” 

The officer bowed low. 

“ Your majesty’s order agrees with my own wish. I 
will then continue my way.” 

“ Do so, sir.” 

A third cannon-ball passed like a sea-gull at the in- 
stant, and one of the sailors who was leaning over the 
gunwale was hurled, a mangled corpse, into the sea. 
The captain looked at the queen. 

“ Go on, sir,” she said, coldly. 

The pursuers now commenced a rapid and continu- 
ous cannonade. The balls passed to the right, left, and 
through the rigging of the ship. At every instant those 


her majesty the queeh. 


229 

on board expected her hull or masts to be struck ; and 
the chasing vessels seemed to gain on her moment by 
moment. Ever nearer and nearer came the now fright- 
ful roar of the big guns ; the cannon-balls of the enemy 
skimmed the deck, or tore their way into the hull. 

The captain hastened to the spot where the queen sat 
beside the helmsman. His face was flushed now, and he 
had evidently had aroused in him the ire of the sailor 
who sees his craft in danger of destruction. 

“ Shall I return the fire, your majesty?” he asked. 
“I hate to see my ship cut in two by these people, 
and I have a gun that will send back a good ball 
and make them keep a little farther off, perchance.” 

The queen raised her dull eyes. 

“ You wish to fire?” 

“ Yes, your majesty.” 

“ I forbid it. Time would be lost. I wish to escape.” 

The captain saluted. 

“Your majesty’s order will be obeyed, and any others 
she may give. ’ ’ 

He waited. 

“You desire my orders, sir?” the queen said, still 
in the same apathetic voice. 

“Yes, your majesty.” 

“ Set every sail.” 

“ It will be dangerous, your majesty. Look ! yonder 
comes a storm. ” 

He pointed to an inky cloud, heralded by gusts 
which struck the vessel, almost drowning the roar of 
the cannon. 

“ Set every sail, in spite of the storm,” the queen 
replied. “ I am ordered to escape. ” 

20 


230 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


“ And if the enemy come up with us, or disable my 
vessel, — what orders then, your majesty?” 

* ‘ Fire the powder-magazine and blow up the ship,” 
said the queen. “ I do not mean to be taken.” 

And she sank again into apathy ; but the expression 
of her countenance indicated clearly that she was pro- 
foundly in earnest in giving the order. 

The captain saluted and turned from the queen. At 
the same instant a cannon-ball cut the mainmast in two, 
and it fell over the side, with sails and rigging. The 
ship shuddered through every timber, and the huge 
mast, held by the rigging, became an enormous batter- 
ing-ram, hurled at every instant against the vessel’s side 
by the waves now lashed to storm. 

“ I think the time has come, your majesty,” said the 
captain. <{ We shall be captured in thirty minutes, if 
we do not sink.” 

“ My order remains unchanged,” the queen replied, 
coldly. 

“Your order ?” 

“To blow up the ship.” 

Suddenly a cheer from the crew was heard. The 
captain turned quickly. A mile to windward, three or 
four vessels were rapidly bearing down, and the French 
flag was plainly made out. They quickly approached, 
and the crew uttered a second cheer. The parliament- 
ary ships had drawn off, and a gun only at long inter- 
vals now indicated that they had given up the pursuit. 

The queen had not moved or spoken. As the storm 
drove the disabled ship towards the French coast, now 
in sight, she continued to gaze out upon the waters 
towards England with the same despairing apathy. It 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


231 


was only by the happiest chance at last that the vessel 
reached a cove in the rocky coast. There the queen 
entered one of the boats, and was tossed on the summit 
of the great waves towards the shore. All at once the 
boat grounded, and I leaped into the sea. The queen 
rose at my signal, I took her in my arms, after the 
sailor fashion, bore her to shore, and deposited her 
upon the rocks wet with spray and sea-weed. The rest 
landed, and, with the members of her suite, the queen 
wandered along the shore, seeking shelter from the 
storm. This we found in an assemblage of fishermen’s 
huts ; and a messenger was sent thence to the chateau 
of a gentleman in the vicinity to announce the pres- 
ence of the daughter of Henry IV. on French soil. 

The intelligence spread like magic, and the rude 
fishermen’s village was soon crowded with the coaches 
of the neighboring nobility, eager to succor the English 
queen thus thrown upon French hospitality. She left 
the village in one of these chariots, and was graciously 
pleased to signify her wish that I should occupy a seat 
in the same vehicle. 

“ Well, Mr. Cecil,” she said, as the coach rolled on, 
“ God has mercifully preserved us.” 

She spoke in the same sombre voice ; but I could see 
tears in her eyes now. 

“From the storm, your majesty, and the enemy: 
that is doubtless your meaning?” 

“Yes, and from my wicked self too. I have been 
thinking of my child, and of my sinful order to blow you 
all up in the ship. I had no right to give such an order ; 
and yet I gave it calmly and meaning it. I can now 
accuse myself of want of moral courage to master my 


232 HER majesty the queen. 

pride ; and I give thanks to God for having preserved 
meat the same time from my enemies and from myself.”* 
Her head sank as she spoke, and gradually tears gath- 
ered in her eyes and rolled slowly down her cheeks. 

“ My poor husband ! — my poor, poor little babe !” 
she sobbed. “ Oh, when, when shall I ever see them 
again ?” 


VI. 


MY PROMISE. 

These events took place in the month of July, 1644. 

In the autumn of the same year I was back in Eng- 
land, bearer of a private dispatch from her majesty, 
then at the baths of Bourbon, to his majesty the king, 
then in the neighborhood of Oxford. 

I need not speak in these memoirs of my brief stay 
in France at that time, any more than I did of my 
sojourn in the Low Countries. This volume strives 
to depict incidents occurring on English ground; and 
accordingly I pass to the moment when I again trod 
the beloved soil of my home-land. 

The times I found more than ever “out of joint.” 
The struggle between king and parliament had steadily 
become more bitter and envenomed. It was now a 


* Her majesty afterwards used nearly these same expressions in 
speaking to her friend Madame de Motteville, as may be seen in that 
lady’s Memoirs. “ I did not feel any extraordinary effort,” she said 
44 when I gave the order to blow up the vessel." 


kkR majesty The queen. 


233 


conflict of life and death ; and during my absence at 
Exeter with her majesty, disastrous events had taken 
place for the royal cause. Early in July was fought the 
great battle of Marston-Moor, where, against the pro- 
test of my lord Newcastle, his highness Prince Rupert 
attacked the enemy and was badly beaten. Later in the 
same month, York surrendered to the parliament. In 
October the king sustained a second defeat on the old 
ground of Newbury, and, save that Lord Essex was 
defeated in turn with the force he commanded in 
Cornwall, no gleam of light came from any quarter 
to cheer the adherents of his majesty. Shut up in the 
city of Oxford, deprived of the consolation of the 
queen’s presence, seeing all around him evidences of 
failing fortunes, the king had little to cheer him, and, 
when I saw him first after my return, seemed plunged 
in melancholy. 

He received me in private audience, and questioned 
me minutely as to the health, spirits, and surroundings 
of the queen. I informed him upon all points, and 
gave his majesty a detailed account of her strange 
adventures at Exeter and on the sea. As I spoke, his 
pale cheeks filled with blood, his eyes flashed, and he 
exclaimed, — 

“ ’Twas like her ! Brave and true ! brave and true !” 

His majesty was pleased then to express his satisfac- 
tion with the humble part I had borne in the escape of 
the queen, to declare his confidence in me, and to dis- 
miss me with expressions of his royal regard. 

As I issued from the royal presence, Harry met me, 
arm in arm with the gay young Frank Villiers, whose 
blue eyes gave me friendly welcome. We all went to 


234 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


the quarters of the Guards, now on duty at Oxford. M> 
old friends received me with an ovation, and during 
the winter I remained at Oxford, dreaming of Frances 
Villiers and wondering where she then was. The vic- 
tim still of my old passion, I could not banish her from 
my mind. But I never spoke of her to Harry, fearing 
to arouse old memories. He was equally reticent : 
her name was never uttered by either of us. I knew 
not whether he still pined for her, and could only re- 
solve to adhere to my resolution not further to prose- 
cute my suit. 

Spring came, and both sides assembled all their 
forces. Fairfax was appointed general-in-chief of the 
parliamentary troops. Under General Fairfax nomi- 
nally, but in reality over him, was the cold, resolute, 
ardent, explosive General Cromwell. He it was who 
now came to put the coup de grace to his majesty’s 
fortunes. Intellect governs the world; and ’twas the 
brain of that single man that shaped the history of 
England. Of the loose and disjointed armies of par- 
liament he made one great engine : the troops became 
inspired with his own indomitable will to conquer: 
his pikemen marched to battle chanting uncouth 
psalms, despising death and wounds, raised by that 
afflatus above care for life. In the person of the 
plain countryman whom I had met at Mr. Hamp- 
den’s in Buckinghamshire, now become the supreme 
ruler of the minds and hearts of his men, the troops 
had found their master and the name that led them 
to victory. 

’Twas a strange fanaticism, that of the puritan sol- 
diery then, — those “Independents” advancing re- 


her majesty the queeh. 


235 


morselessly over church and king. I will not laugh at 
it : ’twas grotesque, but terrible too. I pass on to events. 

June of the dark year 1645 arrived, and the flags of 
king and parliament fronted each other on the soon-to- 
be-famous ground of Naseby. 

Harry and I were lying in our tent on the night 
before the battle, and, as the long hours went on, we 
remained awake, talking of a thousand things. At last 
our talk came to concern one subject alone, — Frances 
Villiers and the love we bore her. Harry laughed 
rather than replied to me, and I loved him more than 
ever for that. Convinced that his passion was un- 
changed, and penetrated to the heart by that great 
wealth of brotherly love which thus surrendered the 
dear object to his rival, I saw in his laughter but a 
new evidence of his noble delicacy, but proof of the 
fact that he wished to make light of his great sacrifice. 
The thought brought tears to my eyes. 

“You shall not find me less magnanimous than 
yourself, brother,” I said. 

“Pooh, Ned !” was his gay reply, “go on and court 
the fair one. Why not?” 

I rose on my elbow from the camp-couch, and, with 
flushed cheeks, said, in a low tone, — 

“ I will not ! Never will I utter word of love whilst 
I am my brother’s rival !” 

Harry laughed aloud thereat, and said, — 

“Suppose I go under to-morrow, old fellow?” 

“No matter!” I cried: “I have promised! Whether 
you pass unharmed or fall, my word is given : until I 
obtain my Harry’s permission I swear I will never utter 
love-word to Frances Villiers !” 


236 HER MAJESTY THE OUEEtf. 

As I spoke, the sudden sound of a trumpet was heard 
without, and footsteps hastening to and fro, mingled 
with the neighing of horses. A sergeant put in his 
head. 

“To horse, gentlemen!” h£ cried; for it was the 
fashion in the aristocratic corps of the Guards to ob- 
serve this courtly and very unmilitary mode of address. 

Harry sprang up. “ What’s the matter?” he cried. 

“The enemy’s horse threaten the train,” was the 
reply. 

The trumpet sounded more shrilly the call “Boots 
and saddles !” 

In ten minutes we were mounted, and, commanded 
by Prince Rupert in person, were moving rapidly to 
the point of danger. 

The parliament horse had indeed advanced to attack 
the king’s trains, but at our appearance they gave up 
the design, and retreated, skirmishing, to their main 
body again. 

The day dawned as we fell back; and soon the sound 
of martial music indicated that the camps were astir. 

The king was forming his line of battle. As the sun 
rose he was ready. 

The disastrous day of Naseby had come. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN , i 


237 


VII. 

THE LAST HOPE OF THE KING AND OF THE CECILS. 

I shall speak but briefly of the tragic combat of 
Naseby. For long a curse seemed to weigh on the 
very name, to me ; even now, I wellnigh shudder when 
’tis pronounced. 

The king commanded his army in person, — Prince 
Rupert leading the right, Sir Marmaduke Langdale the 
left. On the enemy’s side, Fairfax was the general-in- 
chief ; and his right was led by General Cromwell, his 
left by Ireton. 

Rupert opened the battle, as was habitual with him, 
by a cavalry charge. He rushed upon Ireton, and to 
that resolute officer I found myself personally opposed. 
A brief sword-encounter followed, and I was near dis- 
arming him. 

“Surrender!” I cried. 

“ Never !” was his gallant reply. 

With a sweep of his broadsword he cut the feather 
clean from my hat, and it is probable that I would have 
fared badly in the encounter, when a trooper ran his 
weapon through his thigh, and he was taken prisoner, 
still fighting and refusing to surrender, like the brave 
man he was. 

Rupert had meanwhile pushed on, driving the enemy’s 
left before him. It was the strange fate of this head- 
long cavalier to defeat the enemy always at the outset, 


238 her majesty the queem 

but ever by some blunder to lose all the fruits of his 
victory. Such was the event now at Naseby. The 
enemy’s left was routed and driven. The prince could 
fight, but could not command : he stopped to summon 
the enemy’s artillery to surrender before charging it ; 
thus precious time was lost, and the golden moment 
passed. A deafening shout from our left and rear 
attracted all eyes to that quarter. 

The spectacle was terrible. 

As Rupert charged, the king had advanced his whole 
line, leading it in person. Mounted upon a superb 
charger, his head bare, and waving his hat, his majesty 
rode in front of his line, exposing himself to the heaviest 
fire, and calling upon his troops to follow him. They 
responded with cheers, and in a moment the opposing 
lines clashed together. Before the royal charge the 
parliament forces gave back, as before Rupert; but 
suddenly there appeared upon the scene that terrible 
new element, the “Independent” pikemen of Crom- 
well. These now advanced, slow and stern as an in- 
carnate Fate. Nothing stood before the surging hedge 
of steel ; the triumphant royalists were first checked, 
then forced back, then broken wellnigh to pieces : the 
whole left wing of the king was crushed by this irre- 
sistible weight of pikes. 

We saw this, we of the Guards, from a distance, and 
heard the fierce shouts. Prince Rupert understood all, 
and his eyes blazed as they witnessed the spectacle. I 
was near, him, and our eyes met. 

“Go to the king ! go to the king !” he cried, “and 
say I will be with him instantly !” 

I saluted, and wheeled my horse. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


239 

u Stay ! Take Hans with you. You may be shot. 
Say I will come instantly.” 

And, turning to the gigantic corporal who always rode 
near him, the prince exclaimed, — 

“ Go with him.” 

At the word, the huge black-bearded Hans thundered 
to my side. 

“I gome mit you,” he said, drawing his sword, and 
putting spur to his horse. Without a word, I went 
back at full speed, and we were near the king, when I 
saw my companion reel. 

“ You are shot !” I cried. 

“ Hilf Himmel /” escaped from the giant’s lips. Then 
he raised his huge hand to his breast, threw back his 
head, and, falling from his horse, was trampled under 
the iron hoofs. 

I had no time to aid him, even had not a glance told 
me that he was dead. I spurred straight to the king, 
who was fighting in the midst of his men. He saw me 
coming, and exclaimed, — 

“ Where is the prince?” 

“ He bids me say he will be with your majesty 
instantly.” 

“I fear ’tis too late; the left wing is broken.” 

The tumult drowned his voice, and the king con- 
tinued to fight personally, like a private soldier, care- 
less of all peril. I was near him, and now witnessed a 
still more tragic event. The hedge of steel slowly 
moved, as on a pivot, and enveloped the king’s left. 
Stern and menacing swept round the immense wall of 
pikes, and through the smoke I saw their commander, 
the thenceforward terrible General Cromwell. He sat 


240 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEtf. 


his horse perfectly motionless, in front of his left. No 
statue could be stiller, and he resembled rather a bronze 
or stone figure than a man. From time to time his lips 
moved, and a brief command seemed to issue from 
them. Otherwise the man was even fearfully cold and 
immovable, — a Fate incarnate. 

Suddenly Rupert appeared, and I wheeled my horse 
and joined my comrades. Without a word, and seeing 
all at a glance, the prince charged straight on the hedge 
of steel. It did not move : the horses impaled their 
chests on the sharp steel points, but made no opening. 
Then I knew that all was over : the terrible wall was 
closing around us ; nothing was left for the followers 
of the king but to die, sword in hand. 

I had faced that conviction, and set my teeth close 
for the event, when Harry, covered with dust and blood, 
rushed past me on his superb courser. 

“ Come on, Ned!” he shouted, waving his sword, 
and laughing; “there’s time yet ere sunset to drive 
these carles back !” 

I spurred to his side. 

“The day is lost, brother, but we can die here,” I 
said ; and we charged side by side. 

A moment, and all was over. A pike pierced the 
chest of Harry’s horse, and the animal reared and 
fell backward. At the same instant my own horse was 
wounded and recoiled. Harry’s sword cut the air ; I 
heard him utter a defiant shout ; then he was hurled to 
the ground, and a pike was driven into his breast. 

The awful sight unmanned me, almost. A second 
cry — of agony this time — burst from my lips. I seemed 
to see for an instant, through the cloud of smoke, the 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


241 


dying face of my brother ; his eyes turned upon me for 
the last time. Then a hot iron seemed to pass through 
my breast, — a bullet had struck me, — and I reeled in the 
saddle. My bridle was violently grasped by the pike- 
man in front of me ; I could make no resistance ; but 
suddenly my horse tore away from his assailant, turned, 
and lashed out with his heels ; the man was hurled back 
by the iron feet, and I found myself — faint, reeling, 
senseless almost — borne, at a swift gallop, back to the 
king’s line. 

I ran almost against his majesty. He was bareheaded ; 
his eyes flamed. With clothes covered with dust and 
grimed with smoke, and cheeks which seemed on fire, 
he drove into the midst of the combatants, waved his 
sword above his head, and shouted, in hoarse tones, 
which echo still in my memory, — 

“ One charge more, and we recover the day !” 

A roar drowned his voice, and there was scarce more 
than a feeble cheer in response to his shout. The day 
was decided : all felt that Cromwell’s terrible pikemen, 
advancing resistless as fate, would bear down all before 
them. No further stand was made; and the royal 
forces were seen on all sides retreating in disorder 
from the field. 

I was tottering in the saddle, and through the mist 
before my eyes I could see but little. I made out, 
however, in that cloud, one face, over which was 
spread the pallor of despair. It was the face of the 
king, who had checked his horse and sat looking with 
a sort of stupor upon the scene before him. He sat 
thus for a moment only. Two noblemen seized his 
bridle and bore him from the field at a gallop. 

3 ? 


242 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


Unconsciously I followed ; leaning upon my horse’s 
neck, faint and dying almost, I went on at full speed. 
After that I remember only confused cries, the clash 
of arms, the roar of guns in pursuit. Then green woods 
were around me, the noises died away, darkness seemed 
to descend upon me, and I lost consciousness. 


VIII. 

BACK TO CECIL COURT. 

When I fully regained my senses, and realized my 
actual whereabouts, I found myself lying in my bed at 
Cecil Court, with the eyes of my father and Cicely 
fixed upon me. 

“ Thank God!” exclaimed my father, drawing a 
long breath, “ the fever has taken a turn at last.” 

Tears came to his eyes, and Cicely threw herself, 
sobbing for joy, upon her knees, and pressed my thin 
hand to her lips. 

From that moment I began to convalesce, and was 
soon informed of my own adventures after the battle. 
Frank Villiers had come up just as I was falling from 
my horse, and had managed to secure a hospital-wagon 
flying wildly from the field. In this I was placed. A 
considerable sum in gold had bribed the driver to 
convey me to Cecil Court. I had arrived raging with 
fever. For months my life had been despaired of, for 
a bullet had passed through my chest ; but finally youth 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


243 

and health had conquered, and I rallied from the very 
brink of the grave. 

It was to find the arms of my father and sister around 
me, but to realize that the royal cause was lost, and 
that our brave, our dear Harry was forever taken from 
us. His last charge and his fall had become known at 
Cecil Court, and the woeful duty devolved upon me 
now to relate the particulars. I did so, in the midst 
of sobs, and with a great gush of tears from my own 
eyes. Father and sister wept in silence. Cicely drew 
close to me, kissed me, and murmured, — 

“ You alone are left us.” 

Months passed on, and I grew stronger. Finally I 
left my sick-bed and began to totter about the house. 
A hopeless sadness had taken possession of me. I 
scarce gave a thought to the fate of the cause I had 
fought for, thinking only of my brother and his dying 
face. 

A languid interest in public affairs came finally to 
dispute this possessing thought. Naseby had ended 
the struggle. Soon thereafter Prince Rupert surren- 
dered Bristol, for which, ’twas said, the king had dis- 
graced and banished him. Then his majesty took 
refuge with a remnant of force at Oxford. Then he 
fled to Newark, delivering himself up to the Scottish 
army. 

It was not until late summer that I was able to leave 
the house and move slowly about the grounds at Cecil 
Court. No one molested me. Sir Jervas Ireton’s 
flaming loyalty to the parliament had secured him an 
official appointment in London ; and no one in the 
vicinity seemed disposed to harass the poor wounded 


244 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


officer. Still, there was no certainty that, at any 
moment, I would not be arrested. I was therefore 
anxious to leave Cecil Court and not compromise my 
father. Whither I should go was a difficult question. 
But I could find a refuge somewhere. And it was just 
at the moment when I heard that Sir Jervas Ireton 
was coming down from London that an unforeseen inci- 
dent occurred which was to send me forth again upon 
the stormy waters of that troubled epoch. 


IX. 

I GO TO CHARLECOTE AND MEET WITH AN ADVENTURE. 

The incident which I shall now relate leads me to 
speak of a spot connected with a very great writer. I 
mean Charlecote, the residence of the Lucy family, 
near Cecil Court, — Charlecote, where Will Shakspeare 
was seized by Sir Thomas Lucy for trespassing on his 
park and shooting deer. 

As this adventure has been discredited of late days 
by some persons, I will stop here in my narrative to 
briefly record the actual truth. ’Twas vouched for to 
my father by no less a personage than Will Shakspeare 
himself. And this is the story told by the great play- 
writer, laughing over his wine at Cecil Court. The 
knight’s gamekeeper, a huge, black-bearded individual, 
had really seized him, he said, whilst trespassing one 
moonlight night on Charlecote Park to shoot the deer. 


her majesty The queeat. 


24S 

’Twas in company with some roystering young blades 
of Stratford, and the affair was a mad frolic; but it 
speedily became serious. Shakspeare shot and killed a 
stag with his old matchlock, and alarmed the game- 
keeper. At his approach the party fled; but Shak- 
speare’s foot caught in a root, and he fell. Thereupon 
the gamekeeper darted upon him, pinioned his arms 
without difficulty, as he was a mere boy and powerless 
in his opponent’s hands ; and, after a night’s imprison- 
ment in the gamekeeper’s lodge, he was conducted 
before Sir Thomas Lucy, who had been notified of the 
fearful outrage upon his rights of landed proprietor. 
My father described the account given him by Shak- 
speare as excellently entertaining. The irate knight, 
Sir Thomas Lucy, he said, sat in awful state in his 
great hall at Charlecote, and listened in stern silence 
to the animated harangue of his gamekeeper. There 
was no doubt of the youth’s guilt : he had been caught 
in the act, and the dead deer lay on the floor. The 
knight gazed on the beardless culprit, burst forth at 
length into an address full of rage, and swore that but 
for the respectability of his father, John Shakspeare, he 
would put him in the stocks. He was finally discharged, 
the knight declaring his intention of proceeding 
regularly against him for trespass. And, not liking the 
aspect of affairs, Shakspeare determined to go with one 
of his wild companions to London. He did so, began 
writing for the stage, acquired great fame, and when 
afterwards he met Sir Thomas, now a gray-haired man, 
said, laughing, — 

“See, Sir Thomas ! *tis your fault that an excellent 
poacher has become but a poor writer of plays !” 

21* 


Her majesty the queeh. 


246 

Such had been the incident which attached an his- 
toric interest to a plain old manor-house. ’Tis the 
fate of places and personages connected with great men 
to become famous. Doubtless, outside of Warwick- 
shire no one had ever heard of Charlecote had not a 
scapegrace shot deer there and afterwards written King 
Lear and Hamlet. 

Well, to come back now to myself and my own 
adventure at Charlecote. 

Lady Lucy, the wife of Sir Thomas, son of the old 
knight, was my firm friend ; and one of the first houses 
I visited, as soon as I rode out for exercise, was Charle- 
cote. It was a beautiful day of summer when I 
entered the great park and walked my horse slowly 
up the long avenue of century elms and oaks. The 
old park was exquisite, and quite charmed the eye. 
The Avon makes a bend there, and runs through the 
grounds, sweeping around the base of a grassy hill. 
Some stately swans were sailing majestically upon the 
surface of the stream, deer were seen stealing away 
through the vistas in the trees, and the rooks were 
cawing dreamily in the summits of some great elms, 
where they had built their nests, year after year, for 
more than a century, ’twas said. 

I approached the old mansion, — which was of the 
Elizabethan style, with stone groins and shafts, lofty 
casements, and armorial bearings cut over the gate, — 
entered the little court-yard, where beds of brilliant 
flowers delighted the eye, and, giving my horse to a 
groom, entered the great hall, with its rows of family por- 
traits in stiff ruffs and powder, and thence to Lady Lucy’s 
drawing-room, where I was received most graciously. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


247 


Sure, naught on earth is more charming than the 
sympathy of woman. Lady Lucy smiled with an ex- 
quisite sweetness as she greeted the poor pale soldier, 
pressed my hand with affectionate warmth, and an hour 
passed, full of sunshine and sympathy. 

At last I rose to go, and had taken my hat and 
gloves, when the door, which stood ajar, was thrust open 
by some one, and I saw a child standing on the thresh- 
old and looking in furtively. It was a little beauty, — 
a girl with rosy cheeks, bright eyes, and profuse brown 
curls, about two years of age, and full of health and joy. 

I was about to ask the name of this child, for Lady 
Lucy had none, when her ladyship rose hastily, ex- 
claiming, — 

“ Run away, my child ! You must not ” 

The caution came too late. The little girl ran to the 
lady, caught a fold of her dress, looked furtively at me 
for a moment, then gradually approached me, grasped 
with her tiny hand the feather trailing from my hat, 
and, raising her brilliant brown eyes to my face, said, 
in baby patois, — 

“ What dat is?” 

“It is a feather, my child,” I said, smiling. “And 
now, can you tell me your name?” 

Instead of doing so, the little one continued to 
regard with the deepest interest the plume depending 
from my beaver. 

“ Your ladyship has a charming little relative there,” 
I said, smiling; “but do you know I have not yet had 
the honor of an introduction ? A sweeter face I never 
saw, I think, with its bright eyes and curls.” 

Before Lady Lucy could reply, the little maiden 


HER majesty the queen. 


248 

wheeled, and ran to and fro, singing. The song 
seemed suggested by the word “ curls,” which I had 
used : it was a baby lyric, delivered with baby pronun- 
ciation, and was word for word what follows : 

'* There was a little durl [girl], 

And she had a little turl [curl] 

Wight in de middle of her forwid; 

When she was good, 

She was vewy, vewy good, 

And when she was bad she was ho'wid/" 

“ There, there, my child ! the servants have taught 
you these foolish songs,” said Lady Lucy; “that is 
enough ! Run away now !” 

“ Not before I know the name of my little friend,” 
I said, puzzled by Lady Lucy’s persistent avoidance 
of that point; and, smoothing the child’s curls, I 
asked, smiling, — 

“What is your name, little one?” 

“ Henwietta Anne.” 

The name struck me suddenly. It was that of the 
queen’s child born at Exeter. I looked quickly at 
Lady Lucy. 

“Do not ask me anything !” she exclaimed. “You 
are a friend of the good cause — I rely upon you ; but 
this is not my secret : not even to you may I ” 

“ You may venture to tell Mr. Cecil our secret, Lady 
Lucy,” came in low tones from without the door : “he 
has seen the princess before, — soon after her birth, at 
Exeter.” 

And Frances Villiers, mild, calm, queenly, with her 
air of unmoved sweetness, glided into the room and 

saluted me. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEM 


H9 


X. 


THE FLIGHT FROM CHARLECOTE. 

This unexpected encounter with Frances Villiers 
astonished me beyond words; but the young lady 
soon explained all, and I shall sum up her explanation 
in a few sentences. 

The king, when informed of Lord Essex’s advance 
upon Exeter to seize the queen, had hastened by 
forced marches to relieve the place. This he had 
effected. Essex retired before him, and the king, 
entering the city, embraced at Bedford House the 
poor child, to whom he gave the name Henrietta 
Anne, as the queen desired. Compelled then to take 
the field again, he left the babe at Exeter, in charge of 
Lady Morton and Frances Villiers ; and there the child 
remained until the decisive battle of Naseby. There- 
after she was not safe ; and, as Lady Morton was very 
ill, Frances Villiers took entire charge of the child, 
flying first to the house of one friend of the royal cause, 
then to another. Thus, in course of time, she took 
refuge at Charlecote, — the Lucy family being relatives 
of the Villiers and warm friends of the king. Here 
the young lady and child had now been for many 
months ; but the time had come when they would be 
compelled to seek a more secure hiding-place. All 
this Frances Villiers related in her calm, composed 
voice, which made the strange romance of the whole 
L* 


250 HER majesty the queeh. 

affair seem the most commonplace series of events in 
the world. 

“ And what, if I may ask, is your intention now, Miss 
Villiers?” I said. 

“ To leave Charlecote, and, if possible, England, sir. 
This neighborhood is not safe. There is a Sir Jervas 
Ireton in the vicinity, who has gained information, 
’tis said, of the presence of the princess. He will aim 
therefore, as he is a flaming zealot, to seize the child 
and deliver her up to parliament; and to avoid this 
we must resume our wanderings.” 

She spoke in her sweet, calm accents, looking ten- 
derly at the child. Something exquisite appeared in 
^er eyes : — was it the sacred maternal instinct ? I think 
that is in all women. 

“But whither will you go?” I said. 

“ I have nearly resolved — I may say quite resolved — 
to try to take the princess from the country,” she replied. 

“ But you will be arrested on the way.” 

“ Not if a good disguise be assumed, sir. I think I 
might elude the king’s enemies.” 

“A disguise ! what ?’ ’ 

“ That of a beggar-woman and child.” 

The plan seemed wild and impracticable. How 
could this delicate young lady trudge through half 
England on foot, with a child nearly two years old 
toddling on beside her or borne on her back? But 
as Miss Villiers spoke further, and developed her 
scheme, — as, with cheeks glowing now with love and 
devotion, she unfolded her resolve, — it began to assume 
a new shape ; I gradually passed to her side ; and, de- 
spite the opposition of Lady Lucy, it was decided, 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


* 5 * 


before our interview terminated, that the romantic 
attempt should be made, and that I should accompany 
Miss Villiers. 

Against that, I must do her the justice to say, the 
young lady fought hard. Wholly destitute of primness 
and prudery, she was yet a person who never forgot 
the strictest rules of propriety ; and it was long before 
I could prevail upon her to consent to my companion- 
ship. At last, however, she yielded, — Lady Lucy in- 
sisting that if the attempt was made I must accompany 
them ; and it was determined that we should set out, 
as soon as night had fallen, on the next evening. 

I returned to Cecil Court to arrange my disguise 
and prepare for my journey. I was all excitement and 
agitation. Thus fate had once more thrown me with 
the woman whom I loved more than I loved my own 
life. I was to accompany her as companion, friend, 
and defender, if necessary, on a long and perilous 
journey, which would throw me into hourly contact 
with her. I was to look into her eyes, hear the accents 
of her voice, feel the pressure of her hand, and through- 
out all I was to conduct myself as a friend, and only as 
a friend. For I recalled my promise to poor Harry, 
that I would never without his permission utter a woiu 
of love to Frances Villiers. He was dead : that per 
mission could never be accorded : my best course, 
therefore, was to remain away from temptation; — 
and here I was to be thrown, every hour, day and 
night, for days, weeks, it might be months, with the 
woman whom I loved with my whole soul, between 
whom and myself rose nevertheless that impassable 
barrier, my solemn promise given to the dead ! 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


252 

Returning to Cecil Court, in a mood of greater 
agitation than I had believed possible, I set about 
procuring my disguise for the journey. This was 
easily effected : the cast-off livery of a serving-man 
supplied me with just what I required ; and then, shut- 
ting myself up with my father in the library, I revealed 
my intent. 

He warmly commended the design, — instead of op- 
posing it, as I had feared. Miss Villiers, he said, was 
a true heroine, and the project was not so wild as it 
seemed. He would provide me with gold for the 
journey, and pray for my welfare. But we must 
hurry : that man Ireton was coming, and would nose 
out something. 

All things having thus been arranged, I retired, not 
to sleep, however, but to lie awake and think of Frances 
Villiers. The morning came, and the day dragged on. 
The sun slowly declined, and, retiring to my chamber, 
I assumed my disguise. I descended then, embraced 
Cicely, who started back in affright as I entered, 
pressed my father’s hand, and was just issuing forth, 
when Sir Jervas Ireton was seen galloping rapidly up 
the avenue. 

No time was to be lost ; and I ignominiously fled out 
of the back door. My horse had just been saddled, 
and was about to be brought. I leaped upon him, put 
spur to his side, and went at full speed across the fields, 
leaping fences and ditches, towards Charlecote. 

Had I been seen? I could not answer that ques- 
tion. I either saw or fancied that I saw some troopeis 
who rode in the suite of Sir Jervas Ireton hastily sepa- 
rate, gesticulating and pointing me out. This might 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


253 


have been fancy, however. Under any circumstances, 
no time was to be lost. X went on at full speed, 
stopped for nothing in the way, and, reaching the 
grounds around Charlecote, galloped up the long avenue 
to the house. 

Lady Lucy met me at the door, and I hastily in- 
formed her of the danger. I had probably been per- 
ceived. If Ireton had knowledge of the presence of 
the princess at Charlecote, he would have intelligence 
enough to suspect that I had gone to give warning 
of the danger. He would thus press forward at once. 
No time was to be lost. Where was Miss Yilliers? 

The young lady replied to the question in person. 
I could scarce realize that it was the elegant and high- 
born maid of honor who now stood before me in the 
dingy and tattered garb of a beggar-woman. The dis- 
guise was perfect. The slender figure of the young 
girl was a shapeless bundle of rags ; her beautiful hair 
had been remorselessly shorn ; a huge hood covered 
her head and scarce allowed her face to be seen ; and 
the fair skin had been pitilessly stained with some dye 
which brought it to resemble the weather-beaten com- 
plexion of a beggar-woman. 

The princess had been metamorphosed in a manner 
equally perfect. The little figure was bundled up in 
an old gown and tattered cloak. On the delicate feet 
were coarse shoes. It was not an aristocratic young 
dame and the daughter of a king I saw before me, 
but a mendicant and child in the last stage of poverty. 

“Your disguise is excellent, Miss Villiers,” I said, 
hurriedly; “ but we have no time now for compliments, 
Sir Jervas Ireton is coming I” 

29 


254 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


And I related, in brief words, my escape from Cecil 
Court. I was still speaking, when Lady Lucy uttered 
an exclamation. I looked through the window, and 
saw the burly personage thundering straight up the 
avenue, followed by his men. 

“We must separate,” I said, “ and endeavor to 
leave the house instantly.” 

Miss Villiers inclined her head. Save a slight color 
in her proud cheeks, there was no indication of emo- 
tion. 

“Endeavor to leave by the side court,” I said, 
hastily. “ I will go out by the rear gate and join you 
on the road to Stafford, where the three elms crown 
the hill.” 

The rendezvous was a well-known spot, and I knew 
Miss Villiers could not mistake it. She disappeared, 
with the princess, towards a side door ; and, running 
to the rear of the house, I reached my horse, which 
stood there, just as a trooper galloped around and 
approached. 

The incident was far from unacceptable. It was gall 
and wormwood to me to skulk away thus before the 
enemy of my family. I went up to the trooper, who 
was an open-mouthed clodhopper, seized his bridle, 
and, before he could realize my design, caught him by 
the throat and dragged him from the saddle. 

As I did so, he woke as it were from his astonish- 
ment, and uttered a loud shout. I picked up his mus- 
quetoon, which had fallen near him, dealt him a blow 
on the head, which silenced him, and, leaping on my 
horse, gained the dense foliage of the wood. 

3ir Jervas Ireton appeared suddenly, spurring furi- 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


255 


ously towards the fallen trooper. As he passed around 
the house, another spectacle made my heart beat fast. 
I saw Frances Villiers, in her disguise of a beggar- 
woman, with the princess bundled up in a ragged 
cloak on her back, quietly pass out of the house by the 
side door, take a path which led to the wood, and 
gain its shelter entirely unmolested. 

Her enemies had either not seen her, or did not sus- 
pect for an instant that their prey was thus escaping 
them. Whatever the explanation may have been, the 
young girl with her precious burden had passed safely 
through the very midst of her enemies. Without fur- 
ther apprehension, I leaped a low place in the park 
wall, turned my horse loose, knowing that the intelli- 
gent animal would find his way back to Cecil Court, 
and rapidly ran in the direction taken by Miss Villiers. 

In ten minutes I had joined her. I assisted her over 
the wall ; we hastened on by a path which I knew per- 
fectly well. Darkness quickly descended, and, taking 
the young lady’s hand, I led her on until we gained a 
country road. 

“ Yonder is the north star, Miss Villiers,” I said, 
“and this is the road to Campden. Give me the 
princess. ’ ’ 

I took the child in my arms and walked on steadily. 

“Every step we take now brings us nearer to 
France 1” 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


256 


XI. 


ON THE HIGHWAY. 

I look back on that journey with Frances Villiers,and 
the little princess to the sea-coast as the most remark- 
able passage in a life filled with singular adventures. 

Trudging along on foot, or securing places in some 
chance conveyance, — the cart of a countryman going 
to market, or other humble vehicle, — we went upon 
our way, the young lady, the princess, and myself, 
and thus passed safely through the torn and distracted 
realm until we were in the southern shires and neared 
the Channel. The land was all laid waste, and an in- 
expressible disquiet and unrest filled the face of every 
one. War had come to overthrow the old peace and 
happiness of merry England. On all sides dismantled 
houses, torn -down fences, and deserted villages marked 
the presence of that crudest of all demons, the demon 
of Civil War. 

The war was virtually over; but the land had not 
settled to rest again, for the triumphant side had 
divided into two factions, the Presbyterians and the 
stern Independents, the latter led by Cromwell now ; 
and ’twas a question whether a new struggle, more 
violent than the first, would not ensue. From this 
general sketch, however, which might lead me into 
political and historical disquisitions, for which I have 
jiq fancy, I pass to my personal adventures. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


257 


I have said ’twas a strange passage in my life, that 
journey; and my relations with Frances Villiers made 
it stranger still. A lover who had sworn to utter no 
word of love, but whose passion was no secret from its 
object, was journeying with the one dearest to him; 
and the singular character of that journey threw him 
incessantly with his companion. Over long miles of 
heath, through great woods, across desolate moors, by 
day and by night, we traveled in company; and all 
this time it was only as friend to friend that we ad- 
dressed each other. The child walked sometimes, but 
was generally carried upon my back or in my arms. 
This I insisted upon ; though more than once Frances 
Villiers compelled me to yield her charge to her, and 
the delicate and aristocratic girl would, for hours, 
against my protest, bear the child in a bundle upon 
her own shoulders. 

More than once we were suspiciously gazed at by 
chance wayfarerswearing the colors of the parliament; 
and twice roving parties peered into wagons wherein 
we rode, but without finding good reason to stop us. 
’Twas in this latter manner that much of the way was 
traversed. The poor and humble proved themselves 
our best friends ; and often, as we went on slowly, we 
heard, from some yeoman in a smock-frock, earnest 
wishes expressed for the happiness of the king, now 
routed and a fugitive. The only danger was from 
the princess, who had been dressed as a boy and in 
rags, — to her huge disgust, — and called Pierre. When 
asked her name by these poor people, she babbled the 
word princess , however, and we were often in great 
trepidation. 

32 * 


258 HER majesty the queen. 

“That is the manner in which he pronounces his 
name, — Pierre,” the young lady would say; and an op- 
portune diversion of the conversation would do away 
with further danger. 

At last we reached the sea-coast, and, leaving the 
young lady and child in a fisherman’s hut, I went to 
reconnoitre, and discover, if possible, the means of 
crossing the Channel. The result was extremely dis- 
couraging. The coast was thoroughly guarded, and 
no vessel of any description could pass to France with- 
out being stopped. I returned with this discouraging 
information to Miss Villiers : we took counsel together, 
and finally came to the resolution of boldly proceeding 
to Dover and taking the packet which ran at stated 
periods across the Channel. 

We proceeded, therefore, along the coast, reached 
Dover, and luckily found the packet just about to set 
sail. 

“ Come,” I said, in a low tone, as we mingled in the 
crowd, “ we will go boldly on board, and I will under- 
take to answer all questions. ’ * 

We had just reached the deck, when the commander 
gave the order to take in the plank leading to the jetty. 

“ Have all the passports been examined?” 

I shrank back with the young lady and child into a 
corner. 

“Ay, ay, sir,” was the reply of the person addressed, 
a rough-looking personage in a broad hat. 

The next moment the plank was drawn on board, 
the cable was unslung from the wharf, and the packet 
moved under full sail out into the Channel, heading 
towards France, 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


259 


I was still shrinking low, with my companion, in my 
corner, when the man in the broad hat passed near me, 
and said, without turning his head, — 

“ I was groom in the Guards once, sir. I know 
you, but am not the man to betray you. Many a 
friend of the good cause is leaving the country. Go 
down in the aft cabin, and mix with the crowd.” 

I hastened to follow this friendly advice, and we 
were soon lost in the mass. On the same evening we 
were on French soil, and set forward, without stop- 
ping, for Paris. 

Three days afterwards, Queen Henrietta Maria, in 
an apartment of the Louvre, was holding in her arms 
the poor child whom she had last seen at Exeter, sob- 
bing, and covering her with kisses. 

Such was that singular adventure. I look back to it 
now, when my hair grows gray, with more pleasure 
and satisfaction than to all else I had part in during 
the great English civil war. 


XII. 

MY PARTING WITH FRANCES VILLIERS. 

I remained in France until the ensuing spring, per- 
forming the duties of private secretary to her majesty. 

Then there came to me a great longing to return to 
England. I was ill at ease in the Louvre. The splen- 
did French court jarred a discord upon my feelings. 


26 o 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


I longed to go back to my home-land, and to leave 
"^ranees Villiers. 

Does that last statement appear strange? ’Tis true, 
nevertheless. To be near her was torture; alternate 
torpor and fever possessed me. Loving a woman with 
my whole soul, and yet bound to the dead by a solemn 
promise never to speak, I found my heart agitated and 
torn, my very health giving way. 

The queen came to my relief. She summoned me 
to her private apartments one morning, and, extending 
towards me a packet, said, with deep sadness, — 

“ I wish you to convey this to his majesty. Mr. 
Cecil.” 

I bowed low and took the letter. 

“He is at Holmby House, in Northamptonshire,” 
said the queen. “Escaping from Oxford, to take 
refuge with those people at Newcastle, he has been 
sold by them, — sold, for the sum of four hundred 
thousand pounds ! And — oh ! — it is infamous ! — it is 
infamous !” 

And the queen burst into a passion of tears. 

“Bear with me,” she faltered, at length, through 
tears and sobs. “I am only a poor woman ! I will 
try to be calm.” 

And, passing a handkerchief across her eyes, she 
added, more composedly, — 

“The parliament people hold him a prisoner, not 
knowing what to do with him. The Presbyterians and 
odious Independents differ. I would have him decide 
the matter by leaving the country and taking refuge in 
France. Bear him this letter, Mr. Cecil : it contains 
my prayer that he will make the attempt. Do not let 


her majesty the queeh. 


261 


it fall into the enemy’s hands ; and may Heaven pros- 
per you in your journey !” 

She covered her face with her hand, and attempted 
to speak again, but no words came; and I retired 
respectfully from the apartment, leaving her majesty 
bending over the little princess Henrietta and weeping. 

On the same night I had assumed my disguise and 
was on the road to England. A last interview with 
Frances Villiers had gone near to unman me. At the 
moment of parting, when ’twas doubtful if we should 
ever meet again, she permitted her feelings to show 
themselves; and ’twas this which made my heart sink. 
Let me pass briefly over this, and say simply that 
something had at last touched her. Was it that long 
journey we had made together, sharing a common dan- 
ger, and ever beside each other? Was it the womanly 
heart yearning at last, now when the queen was in 
safety, for some refuge for itself? I know not : I can 
only say that, as I held her hand at parting, the beau- 
tiful eyes dwelt upon my face for an instant with an 
expression which I could not misunderstand, and her 
voice died away in a sob. 

“Good-by,” she murmured, smiling through her 
tears, and gazing at me with blushes in her cheeks. 
“We may never meet again; but I pray God to bless 
you and watch over you !” 

A strange, delicious thrill passed through my heart ; 
my face flushed. I bent down and pressed my burn- 
ing lips to her hand. Before I could speak, — Heaven 
be thanked ! — she had left the apartment ; and as she 
disappeared I heard a low sob. 


BOOK V. 


I. 


ON THE BRIDGE NEAR HOLMBY HOUSE. 

I made my way in safety across the Channel, and 
reached the vicinity of Holmby House in Northamp- 
tonshire, where the king was kept close prisoner by 
the parliament. 

I could see him only by stratagem ; and to effect my 
errand I saw no means but to watch for the king when 
he was out on one of his riding-excursions. An honest 
woodman, a friend of the royal cause, who had given 
me refuge in his hut not far from Holmby House, in- 
formed me of the king’s habit ; and for some days I 
watched for the opportunity of delivering the queen’s 
missive. 

At last it came. My friend the woodman went to 
Holmby House one morning, — the great edifice was 
visible through the forest, — and returned with the in- 
formation, derived from the retainers of the palace, 
that his majesty would ride out that morning and pass 
over the road near the hut. 

“ Take your stand at the little bridge yonder, mas- 

. C 2 ^ 2 ) 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 263 

ter,” said the woodman, “ and when his majesty passes, 
go up to him as if you wished to be touched for the 
king’s evil.” 

“ Excellent !” I exclaimed. And in truth the advice 
was admirable. The belief that the royal touch cured 
scrofula was then widely prevalent : numbers flocked to 
be cured wherever his majesty passed ; and I could thus 
approach the king, ’twas to be hoped, without exciting 
suspicion. 

I hastened to take my stand on the rustic bridge 
over which the high-road passed ; and I had not waited 
ten minutes when the king appeared on horseback, 
escorted by half a dozen troopers. His face was pale, 
and he had changed greatly. All the harsh and cor- 
roding emotions which try the human soul seemed 
to have shaken his strength: the plowshare had fur- 
rowed his brow deeply. 

As he reached the bridge, his eye fell upon my face, 
and I saw that he recognized me under my disguise. 
He checked his horse. 

“You wish to speak to me, I think, my good man,” 
he said. 

“ Yes, your majesty, — to pray that you will touch me 
for the king’s evil.” 

I approached, and, concealing the queen’s letter in 
my sleeve, extended my hand, as though to invite the 
royal touch. The king did likewise ; but suddenly a 
loud voice cried, — 

“Hold! What is that?” 

I turned and saw the fierce eyes of the leader of the 
troop fixed upon the letter. He was already spurring 
forward; but in another moment it was torn into a 


264 HRR majesty the queen. 

hundred pieces, and the fragments floating on the stream 
beneath. 

I was seized, and violently hustled by the troopers. 

“What letter was that?” cried the commander of 
the squad. 

“A trifle,” I replied, calmly. “Beyond that I shall 
say nothing.” 

“We shall see !” was the threatening response ; and, 
ordering one of the troopers to take me behind him, 
the officer forced the king to turn back. Half an hour 
afterwards the whole party were back at Holmby 
House. 

I was a prisoner, and under circumstances which 
rendered my fate rather menacing ; but a new incident 
speedily diverted attention from my humble self. The 
king had scarcely entered Holmby House, and had 
not taken off his gloves, when the clatter of hoofs was 
heard in the park; a heavy detachment of dragoons 
approached at a gallop, and in the commander of the 
new-comers, who wore the distinctive uniform of the 
Cromwellian Independents, I recognized no less a per- 
sonage than the tailor Joyce, who had measured me 
for my Guardsman’s coat in Rosemary Lane when I 
first went up from Cecil Court to London. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


265 


II. 


TAILOR TURNED SOLDIER. 

There was no mistaking the face or figure of this 
singular person who thus came at a critical moment to 
decide the fate of the king. I recognized at a glance 
the important look, the nose in the air, the short figure, 
and the free-and-easy air of the ex-tailor of London, 
who had dropped his civil garb for the uniform of a 
cornet in the Cromwellian Independents. 

Joyce rode straight up to the great portal, dismounted, 
and, walking on the points of his feet to increase his 
stature, head raised and nose elevated as before, gave 
a thundering knock. 

“ Your pleasure ?’ * said the leader of the troop which 
had escorted the king, appearing at the door and con- 
fronting Joyce. 

“ To see Charles Stuart, formerly King of England / 1 
was the reply, in a consequential voice. 

“ From whom do you come?” 

“ Where is Charles Stuart?” 

“ He is not at leisure to see you.” 

Joyce turned to his men. 

“ Attention !” he said. “ Get ready to fire through 
this door !” 

“Are you mad?” cried the officer. 

Joyce quietly gave an order to his men, and they 
leveled their musquetoons at the door. 

M 23 


266 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEH. 


“ Hold ! " said the officer. “ His majesty shall him- 
self decide whether he will grant you an interview." 

The officer closed the door as he spoke, and ascended 
to the apartment occupied by the king. Joyce had 
quietly walked up behind him, and entered the room at 
the same moment. In his hand was a cocked pistol. 

“It is hard to obtain audience, it seems, in this 
house," he said, consequentially. 

The king was half indignant, half amused, at sight 
of this unceremonious personage. 

“Who are you?" he said. 

“It is enough, sir, that you must come with me," 
was the reply. 

“Whither?" 

“To the army." 

“ The army ! By what warrant ?" 

Joyce pointed through the window to his men, drawn 
up, armed, and ready. 

“There is my warrant," he said. 

The king smiled, and seemed to yield to the comedy 
of the occasion. 

“ Your warrant is writ in fair characters, and legible 
without spelling," he said. “But here are the wor- 
shipful commissioners of parliament, sir. Be pleased, 
gentlemen, to decide this affair, as I am not in a con- 
dition to make my authority respected." 

The grave commissioners entered as the king spoke, 
and the foremost said to Joyce, coldly, — 

“ Have you orders from parliament to carry away 
the king?" 

“ No," said Joyce. 

“ From the general ?" 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


26; 


“No.” 

“By what authority, then, do you come?” 

“By my own authority.” 

The commissioners frowned. 

“We will write to the parliament to know their 
pleasure,” said the leading commissioner. 

Joyce turned to the king. 

“You will prepare to go with me immediately, sir,” 
he said. 

“We protest against this outrage !” came from the 
commissioner. 

“ So be it ; and you can write to parliament. Mean- 
while, the king must go with me.” 

And, turning to the officer, he said, — 

“If the king has a coach, order it. I will set out 
in half an hour.” 

Turning his back, the important functionary there- 
upon went out of the room and down-stairs, where he 
mounted again and drew up his men in order of battle. 

A stormy discussion followed ; but there was no 
means of resisting. The guard stationed at Holmby 
House to watch the king were seen laughing and talk- 
ing with Joyce’s men, their army comrades. The 
commissioners yielded, the king entered his coach, 
and the vehicle, followed by the troop led by Joyce, 
rapidly rolled away. I had been made prisoner anew 
by the redoubtable ex-tailor. Mounted on horseback, 
I trotted along scarcely observed in the party. Two 
days’ journey brought us to Cambridge, and thence — 
the people crowding along the route to be touched by 
his majesty for the king’s evil — the captive was con- 
ducted to Hampton Court. 


268 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


Strange fate of the fallen monarch, to return thus to 
the scene of his happiness and power ! At Hampton 
Court he had spent the serenest hours of his life. , Here 
he had basked in the smiles of his beautiful queen and 
shared the gambols of his innocent children ; here he 
had reigned a king, only to return to the place a poor 
prisoner, disarmed and doomed to destruction 1 


III. 

THE ESCAPE FROM HAMPTON COURT. 

In narrating the adventures of his majesty from this 
time to the end of his career, — adventures with which 
I was more or less connected, and in which I may be 
said to have borne a not unimportant part, — I shall 
occupy as little space as possible, indulge in few notices 
of public events, and mention only the salient incidents 
leading by a sort of fatality as ’twere to the window at 
Whitehall. I would fain pass over all. But that is 
impossible. At least I shall narrate rapidly. 

Joyce, the ex-tailor, was thus far friendly to the king, 
that, without asking any one’s authority, he permitted 
me to remain at Hampton Court and share his maj- 
esty’s imprisonment, under the guise of private attend- 
ant or secretary. 

From that moment I resolved to effect the king’s 
escape, if possible. I ventured upon every opportunity 
to urge his majesty to attempt it, declaring to him my 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 269 

conviction that otherwise his life was in danger. His 
choice lay between flying to France, where he would 
regain his beloved queen and find a place of safety, or 
remaining to undergo all that the malice of his bitter 
enemies might devise. 

For months he resisted my appeals, which I scrupled 
not to make in season and out of season. Finally, one 
day, after a stormy and exciting interview with a com- 
mission from parliament, he said to me, — 

“ Your advice is good, Mr. Cecil. This day’s scene 
has decided me to leave Hampton Court, if possible. 
Now let us try and devise some means.” 

These words filled me with joy. I believed — with 
what truth let events which followed determine — that 
the king’s life was in danger. I said, therefore, with 
animation, — 

“ Your majesty shall have it in your power to leave 
Hampton Court secretly, — to-morrow night, if you de- 
sire. Leave the arrangement of all to me.” 

“ You have a plan?” 

“ I have had it for months, your majesty.” 

“ And afterwards ?’ ’ 

“France,” I said. 

The king knit his brows. 

“The King of England a wretched fugitive!” he 
muttered. 

“Or his queen a widow and his children fatherless,” 
I said, briefly. 

He looked at me with deep sadness, and said, — 

“Would that be so great a calamity to them, friend? 
All connected with me is unfortunate. But go : do 
what you will.” 

23* 


270 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN, \ 


This was all I wanted. I saluted profoundly, left 
the apartment, sauntered past the guard out into the 
park, where the gentlemen of the king’s suite were 
permitted to walk, and, finding myself out of sight of 
the sentry, hastened down to the bank of the river. 
Here I stopped and waved my hat. Ten minutes 
afterwards a boat detached itself from the opposite 
bank, and lazily crossed, propelled by the paddle of a 
waterman. The boat reached me. I entered, and was 
paddled across. Five minutes after reaching the oppo- 
site bank I was mounted upon a superb horse, which 
had stood bridled and saddled in a shed attached to 
the waterman’s hut, and was going at full speed towards 
the south. 

Half an hour’s ride brought me to the manor-house 
of Colonel Edward Cooke, — the gentleman with the 
fine stud of horses, to whom the queen had written 
when her children were threatened at Oatlands. 

Colonel Cooke was a warm loyalist, and his swift 
horses were needed then to bear the royal children, in 
the event of danger, from the country. They were 
now to be put in requisition to effect the escape of the 
king. 

I had long before arranged everything with Colonel 
Cooke. It was his horse I bestrode. And I now saw 
him advance quickly as I galloped up the avenue lead- 
ing to his mansion. 

“What intelligence, Mr. Cecil?” exclaimed Col- 
onel Cooke, who was a tall and stately old cavalier, 
with a heavy mustache and royale, shaggy eyebrows 
half concealing a pair of dark piercing eyes, and the 
erect bearing of the thorough militaire . “What intel- 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


271 

ligence, I pray you ? Has his majesty consented to go 
with us?” 

“ He has consented,” I replied, with ardent feeling. 
And, leaping from my horse, I entered, and informed 
Colonel Cooke of my interview with the king. 

“ Faith ! his majesty decides in time, and just in 
time,” was the colonel’s comment. In his glowing 
cheeks I read a satisfaction which, cool and reserved 
as he was, the old soldier could not conceal. He went 
and poured out two flagons of wine. 

“To our success!” he said. “And now for our 
arrangements, Mr. Cecil. I and my friends are ready. 
His majesty shall bestride an animal fit for a king. 
The jades they ride yonder at Hampton Court will have 
no showing ! Come ! Now for every arrangement !” 

The plan was speedily agreed upon. Colonel Cooke, 
with a party of friends, was to be at the waterman’s 
hut the next evening at sunset, with horses saddled 
and ready, and two led horses for the king and myself. 
His majesty would then steal forth to enjoy the evening 
air. The guard over him had been relaxed recently, 
and this would not be hazardous. The river’s bank 
would be reached, the stream crossed in the boat, 
then to horse, and, encircled by friends, he would fly 
to France. 

I left Colonel Cooke with a close grasp of the 
hand, reached the river, was paddled over, and re- 
gained Hampton Court without having excited the 
least suspicion. Ten minutes afterwards I was alone 
with his majesty, and told him of the plan for his 
escape. 

“ So be it,” he said, calmly. “ Whither I will bend 


272 HER majesty the queen. 

my course afterwards may be left to the future to 
decide.” 

I saw that the king could not yet bring himself to 
the resolution to take refuge in France ; but to this I 
thought he must surely be driven. I therefore lost no 
time in combating his indecision, proceeded to prepare 
for the flight, and finally lay down with a beating 
heart, impatient for the morrow. 

That morrow dawned, dragged on, — never was day 
so sluggish ! — but finally evening came, and the king 
descended to the hall of the palace, I following him. 

As he attempted to issue forth, the man on guard 
held his musquetoon across the doorway. 

“ You cannot pass,” he said, roughly, — for he was 
one of the Independents. 

“ You will surely suffer me to walk in the park for 
the benefit of my health?” 

“No!” 

The sound of feet tramping towards us was heard, 
and the guard saluted. It was a sergeant, with a new 
sentinel. 

“Sergeant,” I said, “this man on guard here bars 
the way against his majesty, who wishes to walk for 
exercise in the park.” 

“ He obeys his orders,” was the consequential reply 
of the sergeant, who was about five feet in height. 

“He was right, then, sergeant,” I said, saluting; 
“but you, a superior officer, are fortunately here now. 
Has his majesty your permission to walk for half an 
hour beneath the trees?” 

I had conquered my man. “Superior officer” and 
“permission” effected the victory. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


273 


“ Hum ! Well,” said the highly-flattered small per- 
sonage, ‘ ‘if only for half an hour. Orders are strict; 
but I will send an escort to keep you in sight. Pass!” 

A moment afterwards the king and myself were on 
the lawn, the man just relieved from guard following 
us at a distance and lowering at us. 

All depended now upon giving the signal without 
being discovered. I succeeded in doing so by gliding 
behind a clump of bushes on the bank of the stream. 
I saw the boat put off at the signal and slowly paddle 
across, and the king sauntered, at a sign from me, 
towards a spot agreed upon. Behind came the guard : 
it was impossible to escape him. 

“Enter the boat, your majesty,” I said, hurriedly, 
“and leave me to deal with this man.” 

The king shook his head. “ I will not desert you, 
friend. Come ! He can fire but once upon us, and I 
fear not bullets.” 

Naught I could say moved the king. Thus no course 
remained but to risk everything. We were now at the 
bank ; the boat touched it. The king leaped on board, 
dragging me after him, and the boat darted into the 
stream again. 

The sentinel uttered a tremendous imprecation, and, 
taking deliberate aim, fired at the king. The ball only 
clipped a feather from his hat, and there was no more 
danger now, — from the sentinel at least. The shot 
would give the alarm, however, — the troops would soon 
hasten towards the bank. 

We were not mistaken. The boat had not reached 
the opposite shore when the grassy banks in Hamp- 
ton Court suddenly swarmed with soldiers. Loud cries 
M* 


274 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


to halt rose from the crowd, and a volley from their 
musquetoons whistled around us as the boat ran aground. 
The king’s friends, headed by Colonel Cooke, hurried 
down the bank and bore the king to shore. 

“ There is no time to lose now, your majesty,” said 
the colonel. “Your horse is ready. I beseech you 
hasten !” 

The horse, a superb hunter, was led up quickly, 
and the colonel held the king’s stirrup. His majesty 
mounted, and all did likewise. As we did so, half a 
dozen boats put off from the opposite shore. 

Colonel Cooke caught the king’s bridle, exclaim- 
ing,— 

“ Come, your majesty !” 

“In an instant, sir,” was the calm reply. “I would 
take a last farewell of my palace.” 

And, reining in his horse, he sat quietly for some 
moments, gazing at Hampton Court. 

“ ’Tis very beautiful ; and I was once very happy 
there ! ” I heard him murmur. 

He remained for some moments gazing towards the 
stately edifice with the same sad expression ; then he 
turned his horse slowly, just as the boats full of soldiery 
touched the bank. 

“ Come, gentlemen!” he said. 

And, striking the spurs into his horse, he set out for 
the southern coast. Behind him thundered the rest. 
The spirited horses swiftly bore their riders beyond 
danger. King Charles I. had effected his escape from 
Hampton Court. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


275 


IV. 

CARISBROOKE CASTLE. 

The pages of my memoirs I am now about to trace 
will contain a brief narrative of some of the saddest 
and most terrible events in English history. Looking 
back now in my calm old age upon those days, I seem 
to see a huge black cloud drooping low and full of 
mutterings; and truly the storm was about to burst on 
the head of the unfortunate king. 

Of the events which followed the escape of his maj- 
esty from Hampton Court, I shall present only a rapid 
narrative. I have not the heart to dwell upon all the 
details. Again my pulse throbs, and the long shadows 
of memory fall like a pall. 

The king and his party of cavaliers traveled at full 
speed all night, and at daybreak were received into the 
house of a lady passionately attached to the royal 
cause. It was necessary, however, to put more dis- 
tance between him and his enemies : the king and his 
attendants set out again at dawn. At last the frown- 
ing battlements of Carisbrooke Castle, on the Isle 
of Wight, rose before us, and the murmur of the sea 
indicated that the Channel was not far distant. 

Now arose the question what the king’s next course 
should be. Should he leave England and escape to 
France? He was obdurately opposed to that. The 
armies under General Cromwell and the parliament were 


27 6 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN, 


wellnigh at loggerheads at last ; each was manoeuvring, 
it seemed, to compose matters first with his majesty; 
and the English people had of late exhibited unmistaka- 
ble indications of a desire to throw overboard both armb- 
and parliament, and restore the king, taught now, it was 
supposed, discretion by his sufferings and misfortunes. 

“ I will not go to France,” the king said, reining in 
his horse, which seemed intent on bearing him towards 
the coast. “That is Carisbrooke Castle, is it not?” 

“It is, your majesty,” returned Colonel Cooke. 

“The name of the commandant?” 

“Hammond, sire.” 

“ Hammond? Ah, yes ! a relative of my chaplain. 
Go to him, colonel, take Mr. Cecil with you, and de- 
mand whether he is ready to receive me as a guest, not 
a prisoner. ’ * 

“But, your majesty ” 

“Go, colonel.” 

“ It will endanger your majesty’s safety.” 

“You need not tell him where I am. I will await 
your return in this wood.” 

There was nothing to do but to obey; and I went 
with Colonel Cooke. A short ride brought us to the 
gateway of the great fortress, as I may call it, rather 
than castle, and Colonel Hammond speedily made his 
appearance. He was a tall and very stern man, with 
one of those secretive faces which express nothing. 

“Your pleasure, gentlemen?” he said. 

Colonel Cooke gave him the king’s message. I saw 
him start imperceptibly almost, but in an instant this 
emotion disappeared. 

“Where is his majesty?” he said, coolly. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


27 7 

“That is beside the question, sir. Will you receive 
and protect him ?’ ’ 

A brief pause ensued. 

“ I will go with you, — alone. I must see his majesty 
before I reply.” 

“ Content, sir,” said Colonel Cooke, after a mo- 
ment’s reflection. “You have only to come with us, 
and you will be conducted to the king.” 

Ten minutes afterwards, Colonel Hammond was 
riding with us towards the wood in which the king 
was concealed. I went before my two companions. 
As I approached the king, he said, — 

“ That is Colonel Hammond, is it not ?” 

“Yes, your majesty.” 

“ Has he given his written promise to receive me as 
his guest ?’ ’ 

My head sank. These simple words indicated the 
extent of the imprudence of which we had been guilty. 

“ I think your majesty may depend upon him as a 
man of honor,” I said. 

The king shook his head. “I have lost my faith 
in men,” he said, sadly. “I am Colonel Hammond’s 
prisoner.” 

The words drove my hand to my sword-hilt. 

“It is my fault, — in part at least ! I will kill him!” 
I exclaimed. 

The king raised his hand with a gesture of royal dig- 
nity. “No: I am weary of seeing blood shed in my 
behalf. Let there be surcease of this. Rather than 
leave my kingdom, or be hunted like a wild beast all 
along the coast here, I will put myself under charge of 
this officer, trusting that he will prove a friend. ’ ’ 

24 


HER MAyESTY THE Qt/EEM 


2^S 

Colonel Hammond had now reached the spot, and 
made the king a low salute. 

“You are Colonel Hammond?” said the king. 

“I am, your majesty.” 

“You command at Carisbrooke Castle?” 

“Yes, your majesty.” 

“ I will go thither with you, sir.” 

And the king advanced on horseback towards the 
castle, whose ponderous gates soon closed behind the 
whole party. They were not guests, but prisoners. 

On the same evening, Colonel Hammond dispatched 
a fast-riding courier to London, to announce to par- 
liament that King Charles I. was a prisoner at Caris- 
brooke Castle. 


V. 


EIKON BASILIKE. 

So woefully had ended the hopeful design of bearing 
his majesty beyond the reach of danger. Once beyond 
the walls of Hampton Court, he had been free. He 
might have taken refuge in the western shires, still 
faithful to him, and perchance have once more found 
an army flock to his standard ; or he might have em- 
barked for France, escaped the hostile cruisers, and 
rejoined his beloved queen. All this was possible on 
the day of his departure from Hampton Court. Now 
it was a dream : the prey was in the clutch of the furious 
huntsmen. 

The outward signs of respect from Colonel Hammond 


HER MAJESTY' THE QUEEN. 


279 

and the garrison only added to the bitterness of the 
king’s imprisonment. A cautious game was evidently 
going on. This human being might some day be the 
master again. He never appeared, accordingly, upon 
the battlements but the sentinel saluted ; Colonel Ham- 
mond ever doffed his hat and inclined profoundly upon 
entering his majesty’s presence. I, in common with the 
other members of the king’s party, was treated as a guest 
rather than a prisoner. The future was too doubtful to 
render harshness prudent. 

Nevertheless, the king’s health and spirits rapidly 
failed him. Day by day life seemed dying out from 
the worn frame, as hope disappeared. He grew thin 
and gray. His face was covered with an unsightly 
beard. He neglected his dress, grew older and sadder 
hour by hour, and would wander to and fro with his 
eyes fixed upon the ground, or, sighing, would gaze 
towards France. 

One day I saw him standing on the battlements, 
looking in the direction of the French coast, and hold- 
ing in his hand a half-folded paper. He turned his 
head, and, seeing me, motioned to me to approach. 

* ‘ Would I had followed your advice, my friend,” 
he said, “ and sought refuge in France. I could have 
done so, perchance. ’Tis impossible now.” 

His head sank, and he remained silent for a moment. 

“ This letter is from ” 

His voice died away, and his lips trembled. 

“ She has begged the people in London, she writes 
me, to accord her permission to come to me. She went 
only at my bidding ; she would return now, like a good 
wife, when the dark hour has come upon her husband.” 


28 o HER MAJESTY THE queejv. 

“And they have refused, your majesty ?” 

“They have refused !” 

A deep groan issued from the king’s lips. He turned 
his face towards France again ; his thin hands were 
clasped for a moment; and then, turning away, he 
slowly went to his chamber. 

When I attended him there, an hour afterwards, — for 
I shared with his grace the Duke of Richmond the 
duties of groom of the chamber, — I found him writing. 

“ See,” he said, raising the sheet, “lam writing my 
last will and testament, friend. I strive herein to show 
my subjects my inmost heart. In this ‘Eikon Basilike,’ 
as I call it, naught is concealed.” 

He sighed, and added, — 

“ Shall I read you the words I have just written ? 
‘ I am content to be tossed, weather-beaten, and ship- 
wrecked, so that she be safe in harbor. I enjoy this 
comfort in her safety, in the midst of my personal 
dangers. I can perish but half if she be preserved. 
In her memory, and in her children, I may yet survive 
the malice of my enemies, although they should at last 
be satiate with my blood.’ ” 

The king replaced the paper upon the table, clasped 
his hands and leaned them upon it ; and upon the hands 
thus clasped his forehead drooped slowly, his long 
gray hair falling around the emaciated cheeks and 
concealing them. 

In presence of this immense sorrow I could say 
nothing and offer no condolence. There was some- 
thing terrible as well as heart-rending in this royal 
despair ; and, without speaking, I turned to leave the 
apartment. 


her majesty the queen. 


281 


As I approached the door, I saw a man standing 
without and gazing at the king. This was one Osborne, 
appointed by Colonel Hammond to attend the king. 

As I came out, he made me a sign that I should fol- 
low him ; and I did so. 


VI. 


THE PLAN OF ESCAPE. 

Osborne went on until he reached a retired nook, 
and then, stopping suddenly, said, in a low tone, — 

“ You are the king’s friend, I think, Mr. Cecil?” 

“ His faithful friend, I hope, sir, as I trust you are.” 

“I am,” was his reply. “ I was not, a month ago; 
but his majesty’s looks haunt my sleep. They are 
going to try and murder him. He must escape.” 

I looked at the speaker keenly. 

“I know what you mean,” he said. “ You distrust 
me — well. But I am the king’s friend. I slipped a 
note into his glove two days since, offering to risk my 
life to secure his escape ; but he has not spoken to me. 
I know not if he received it.” 

“Your plan?” I said. 

“Listen, sir. There is a certain Major Rolfe in the 
garrison here, — a wretch bent on earning blood-money. 
He proposed to me to entice the king to attempt an 
escape from this place. Files and a rope-ladder were 
to be supplied. The king was to descend from his 
window and escape from the castle. Then Rolfe, with 
others, lying in wait, was to assassinate him.” 

24* 


2&2 


HER MAJESTY THE queen. 


I listened with attention. 

“And your plan, Mr. Osborne ?” 

“To conspire against the conspirators, to get the 
king out of the castle, and cut the throats, if necessary, 
of Rolfe and his gang.” 

I reflected for a moment with all the power of my 
brain. Had Osborne the design which he attributed 
to Rolfe, or was this man a true friend of the king ? 

“You would be ready to receive his majesty when 
he descended by the ladder?” I said. 

“Yes.” 

“ I will be at liberty to take part ?” 

“Assuredly.” 

“To stand beside you?” 

He looked at me with firm eyes. 

“I understand. Yes. Stay! you are unarmed. 
Here is a dagger which you may plunge into my heart, 
if you have reason to believe in my treachery.” 

I took the weapon and placed it in my breast, looking 
fixedly at the speaker. 

“I accept your offer,” I said, “and will go imme- 
diately and apprise his majesty.” 

I left Osborne, went to the king’s chamber, and 
informed him of the plot. He shook his head. 

“It will fail,” he said, “ or I will end my life in a 
midnight brawl in this corner of my kingdom. I do 
not wish to die thus. I would perish in public, before 
the eyes of the whole world.” 

I combated this resolution with all my powers, and 
the king, enfeebled by sickness and sorrow, began to 
waver. 

“ The one your majesty loves best in all the world 


HEk Majesty the queen. 283 

awaits you yonder/’ I added, extending my hand 
towards France. 

His face flushed. “ Enough ! you have conquered 
me,” he murmured. “ Go. I will do as you wish.” 

I hastened from the apartment, and obtained a second 
private interview with Osborne. 

“The king consents,” I said. “And now to ar- 
range all !” 

The arrangements were speedily made. Files were 
to be supplied me, with which I would file through the 
iron bars of the king’s window; a rope-ladder was 
ready, procured by Osborne for the purpose. Once the 
obstructions were removed, his majesty could descend 
by it, the key of a postern in the outer wall had been 
obtained, and Charles I. would be free. 

“Rolfe will know of but a part of the plan,” Os- 
borne said ; “ and we are playing a dangerous game. 
But it must be risked. Now I will go and gain over 
some men whom I think we may count upon. If all 
is ready, the attempt will be made at midnight, two 
nights from this time.” 

With these words we parted. 

On the second night thereafter, all was ready for the 
hazardous undertaking. I had passed the preceding 
night in hard work on the iron bars, which I attacked 
with a file dipped from time to time in grease to dull 
the grating sound. This occupation lasted for eight 
hours. At the end of that time the bars hung by a 
thread. I announced the fact to his majesty, who had 
fallen into a feverish sleep on his couch ; and, as I had 
managed to convey the rope-ladder of fine twisted 
hemp to his chamber unperceived, all was ready. 


* 8 4 & ER MAJESTY THE QtJEEtf. 

Midnight came at last. The night was dark; and this 
favored the dangerous scheme. A chill wind whistled 
drearily around the battlements of the great castle, and 
from beneath came the long dash of the waves against 
the base of the cliffs. 

“ The moment has come, sire,” I said, in a low voice. 
“Be firm and fearless.” 

The king smiled sadly. “Feel my pulse, friend,” 
he said, extending his hand. “ The Stuarts are unfor- 
tunate, but they are at least brave. This will fail ; but 
I fear nothing. Is all ready?” 

“Yes, your majesty.” 

“ Osborne and his friends are beneath?” 

“As well as Rolfe and his party; but ours out- 
number them greatly.” 

“ Then all, I see, is ready. You will descend after 
me ” 

“A moment, your majesty. I will remove the bars 
and attach the ladder; then I will simply go out of that 
door yonder and join the party below.” 

“Join the party?” 

“ Yes, your majesty.” 

“ You cannot : the sentinel.” 

“I am allowed to pass about : it is only your maj 
esty that is guarded. * ’ 

“But why not descend by the ladder?” 

“ I have an arrangement with Osborne, and will see 
that Rolfe is a party to it.” 

“What arrangement?” 

“To bury this dagger in his heart,— in the hearts 
of both, — if they have betrayed you !” 

The king extended his hand, as a man does to grasp 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


285 

that of a friend. I took the hand and kissed it. Then 
I rapidly drew out the bars, saw that a confused group 
awaited below, affixed the ladder, and turned for the 
last time to the king. 

“ Your majesty is not fearful of growing dizzy?” 

“ No : my nerves are perfectly firm.” 

“The descent is considerable.” 

“It is nothing, — since France and my wife are at 
the foot of the ladder.” 

“ Then may God guard your majesty !” 

As I spoke, I opened the door; but suddenly I 
recoiled. The corridor was full of armed men, at the 
head of whom advanced Colonel Hammond. 

“I have come to save your majesty a dangerous 
essay,” he said, coldly. “Your plan of escape has 
been discovered, and Osborne is already under arrest. 
To-morrow he will be hanged and quartered.” 

The speaker inclined stiffly. 

“Place two men beneath the window there,” he 
added, to a sergeant, “and a regular guard, to be re- 
lieved every two hours, in this corridor. The parlia- 
ment will decide the rest.” 


VII. 

THE HOUR AT LAST. 

Three days afterwards, — days passed by myself as a 
captive in the same room with the king, — Colonel Ham- 
mond made his reappearance. 

“Your majesty will be released from further im- 


286 HER majesty the queen. 

prisonraent in this apartment,” he said, stiffly. “I 
am directed to announce so much by the parliament, 
who will send further orders. If agreeable to your 
majesty, you may now descend to dinner, which is pre- 
pared in the great hall.” 

The king inclined coldly, and was about to decline. 

“I pray your majesty to descend,” I said. “Your 
health fails from confinement.” 

The sad smile, now habitual with him, came to his 
lips. 

“Content,” he said; “but you use but feeble rea- 
soning, friend.” 

I assisted him to make his toilet, and he descended to 
the great banqueting-hall of the castle, where a crowd 
of persons had assembled, as was customary then, to see 
the king dine. 

The king had no sooner taken his seat than the com- 
pany were startled by a sudden apparition. This was 
a solemn, funereal, and cadaverous personage, clad in 
black, but wearing a military belt and scarf, who stalked 
into the hall, posted himself opposite the king, and 
fixed his eyes upon him in sombre silence. The king 
gazed at this strange person with undisguised surprise, 
but, finding that he was apparently dumb and might be 
deaf, did not address him : the whole meal passing in 
silence. 

As the king rose, I approached the funereal per- 
sonage. 

“Your name, if I may ask, sir?” I said. 

“Isaac Ewer, an unworthy follower of the godly 
cause. ’ ’ 

“ Colonel Ewer, I think,” 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


287 


“ I am so called.” 

“ Your object?” 

“I am come to fetch away Hammond to-night.” 

These words dissipated all doubt. This singular 
personage, representing the “Independents” of the 
army, had come to order away Hammond, who repre- 
sented the parliament. From this moment it was ob- 
vious that Charles I. had ceased to be the prisoner of 
the civil power, and had become the prize of the mili- 
tary. The full significance of the change may be stated 
in a few words : the name of Isaac Ewer appears among 
the regicides. 

This man had just uttered the words I have recorded, 
and Colonel Hammond had started up, as though deter- 
mined to resist this summary order from the military 
authorities, when I heard a familiar voice near me, 
and, turning my head, saw Colonel Cooke. How this 
faithful friend of the king gained access to the castle I 
never discovered. He had been released months be- 
fore, and had passed from my mind ; but I afterwards 
knew that he had kept watch over the king and laid 
many plans to effect his escape. 

Colonel Cooke now approached the king hurriedly, 
and said to him, in the midst of the confusion, — 

“ Your majesty must attempt to escape.” 

“ To escape?” 

il At once,” he replied, quickly. “ The army has a 
plan for seizing you immediately. This must be pre- 
vented. All the preparations are made. We have 
horses all ready here, concealed in a pent-house. A 
vessel is at the Cowes waiting for us. We are prepared 
to attend you.” 


283 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


The king turned pale. 

“No,” he said. “I have given my word to Ham- 
mond and the House that I would make no further such 
attempts. They have promised me, and I have prom- 
ised them ; and I will not be the first to break promise.” 

“Your majesty means by they and them the parlia- 
ment?” 

“Yes.” 

“ They have no power to protect you ! You are a 
dead man if For God’s sake, your majesty, con- 

sent !” 

The face of the speaker flushed. 

“For the queen and your children’s sake !” 

The king shook. 

“No, I cannot: do not tempt me!” he murmured. 
“ My honor of gentleman alone is left to me!” 

A thundering knock was heard at the door as the 
king uttered these words, and a file of soldiers entered, 
in front of whom advanced, with heavy tramp, two or 
three sombre-visaged officers. 

They went straight to the king. 

“You must come with us,” said one of them. 

“ Who may you be?” the king asked. 

“ Officers from the army. Come !” 

“ Whither?” 

“To the castle.” 

“ * The Castle’ is no castle ! I am prepared for any 
castle, but tell me the name.” 

“ Hurst Castle.” 

“Indeed !” the king said, calmly. “You could not 
have named a worse.” 

In truth, the selection of that gloomy fortress, a 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


289 

species of dungeon, fitted for murder, seemed an 
ominous indication of the designs of the king’s captors. 
It stood on a desolate promontory, approached from 
the Isle of Wight by a narrow causeway; and an hour 
afterwards the king was conducted thither. 

In this sombre keep he was immured now, and I con- 
fess my heart sank. I had remained with his majesty, 
along with others, and experienced very great solicitude 
for his safety. Everything now seemed to depend upon 
the result of the struggle between the army and parlia- 
ment. The latter was known to embrace a number of 
prominent persons who favored the king’s release : if 
the army were overthrown, the king, thus, would be 
saved. 

One morning came intelligence that the army under 
General Cromwell had crushed the parliament. Soon 
afterwards the rattling chains of the drawbridge were 
heard as the ponderous mass fell. The emissary of the 
army had come to conduct Charles I. to Windsor 
Castle. 

He was conducted thither. A month passed : I had 
begun to dream of happier times for this poor husband 
and father, so long the sport of his enemies, when, on 
the 15 th of January, 1648, a squadron of horse appeared 
and escorted the king to London. 

The hour had come. 


N 


25 


290 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


VIII. 

THE SCENE AT WESTMINSTER HALL. 

I have shrunk from dwelling at length upon the days 
passed by the king at Carisbrooke and Hurst Castles ; 
for a stronger reason still, I shall pass hastily over the 
last scenes of the tragedy, the memory of which still 
affects me profoundly. 

This human being, now approaching death, had his 
weaknesses, his prejudices, — committed crimes more 
than once, — claimed prerogatives inconsistent with the 
liberties of England ; but he had suffered, had grown 
gray in prison, and all the glory of royalty had been 
stripped from him, and now his enemies, in an evil hour 
for them, were going to commit the blunder of making 
a martyr of him by putting him to death. 

The forms were speedily gone through with. From 
Windsor Castle, where he had enjoyed a brief season 
of tranquillity, not divested of hope, he was taken in his 
coach, under an escort of troopers with drawn pistols, 
to St. James’s Palace in London, where his treatment 
at once indicated that his fate was sealed. 

I had remained with him, as had his grace the Duke 
of Richmond, his faithful Herbert, and other friends. 
We were mercifully permitted to share his last hours; 
and the terrible details of these hours are here recorded 
briefly. 

It soon became known to us that the military power 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


291 


was completely in the ascendency. General Cromwell, 
its head, proceeded to turn out of parliament all op- 
posed to the fatal resolution at last reached. The king 
was transferred to a wing of Edward the Conqueror’s 
Palace ; and speedily came the order that he should 
be brought to Westminster Hall for trial. 

It was a dark and chill morning in January when 
the order came. The king rose calmly, put on his hat, 
took his cane and gloves, and bowed to the officer 
bearing the order. 

“I am ready, sir,” he said. 

The officer did not return the salute. The days of 
royalty, and the respect due it, had passed away now. 
The officer simply pointed to the door. 

The king went out, and found himself in face of a 
body of armed men, who gazed at him, some with 
lowering faces, others with undisguised pity and com- 
passion. 

“ Forward, to Westminster Hall!” the officer com- 
manded ; and the troop moved, escorting the king, 
who walked in the midst. I was near him, and went 
on in a dream, as ’twere. The fatal pageant affected 
me as men are affected by things seen in sleep. 

All at once, as the procession moved along, I heard, 
from a window above, the hoarse words, — 

“ Here he is ! here he is !” 

I looked up. The king was passing the “Painted 
Chamber;” and the hoarse speaker was General 
Cromwell. For the third time in my life I saw this 
terrible man : — first in Buckinghamshire, at Mr. Hamp- 
den’s, a shuffling, absent-looking countryman; again 
at Naseby, a cold and immovable statue on horseback ; 


2 9 2 HER majesty the queen*. 

now a judge, pale and purple by turns, looking upon 
his victim. 

I heard afterwards that he and others had met here 
to see the king pass, and that General Cromwell, after 
uttering the words above recorded, added to Marten, 
one of his associates, — 

“The hour of the great affair approaches. Decide 
speedily what answer you will give him; for he will 
immediately ask by what authority you pretend to judge 
him.” 

“ In the name of the Commons assembled in parlia- 
ment,” Marten replied, ironically, “and of all the 
good people of England.” 

The purlieus of Westminster Hall were nearly choked 
with troops. These, too, seemed divided between bit- 
ter enmity and compassion. Many of the citizens had 
mingled with the soldiery, and cried aloud, as the king 
came, — 

“ God save your majesty !” 

The soldiers did not suppress this cry ; and the fact 
seemed to enrage their commander, Colonel Axtel. 
Suddenly the tall form of that officer advanced, the 
dark face full of anger. This sentiment became fury 
when some of the soldiers, whose backs were turned to 
him, shouted, compassionately, — 

“Justice! justice!” 

With a cane which he held in his hand, Colonel 
Axtel struck them vigorously over the shoulders ; and 
the men who had just clamored for justice to the 
captive now shouted as loudly, — 

“ Execution ! execution 1” 

The king entered Westminster Hall in the midst of 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEH. 


his guard. Behind came the procession of his judges, 
with the sword and mace borne before them. 

The king sat down, keeping his hat upon his head, 
and looked around him with calm and even curious 
eyes. His bearing was composed, and his eyes seemed 
to express a grave wonder at the scene. He was yet 
thin and pale, and the curls beneath his beaver were 
silvered with gray. 

The judges took their seats- above him, and the cere- 
mony began. An advocate rose, and began to read 
from a paper which he held in his hand that the king 
was “ indicted in the name of the Commons assembled, 
and the people of England.” 

The king interrupted him here with some words 
which I did not hear. The advocate scowled at him, 
but continued to read ; whereupon the king extended 
his slight cane, and touched him with the gold head 
upon the shoulder. The head detached itself from 
the cane, rolled on the floor, distinctly heard in the 
profound silence; and the whole assembly, wound 
to the highest pitch of nervous excitement, rose in 
mass. 

“ God save your majesty! God save the king!” 
nose from the crowd of people in the hall. 

Scuffling succeeded : the troops, under direction of 
their officers, were buffeting and hustling the malcon- 
tents. The advocate’s voice, loud and monotonous, 
resumed the indictment. It was finished; and Mr. 
Bradshaw, who presided, demanded of the king what 
his plea was, — guilty or not guilty of the crimes laid 
to his charge. 

“I make no plea. I deny the authority of this 
25* 


294 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN". 


court, though not the power,” the king replied. 
“ There are many illegal powers, as those of high- 
waymen and bandits. The Commons agreed to a 
treaty of peace with me when at Carisbrooke, and 
since that time I have been hurried from place to place. 
Where are the just privileges of the House of Com- 
mons? Where are the Lords? I see none present. 
And where is the king ? Call you this bringing a king 
to his parliament ?” 

Bradshaw scowled, retorting in some violent words, 
and a discussion ensued. The court promised to break 
up in the midst of a brawl, — perhaps a conflict be- 
tween army and citizens. It was hastily adjourned, 
therefore ; and the king was reconducted to his prison, 
the people shouting, as he passed, — 

“ God bless your majesty ! God save you from 
your enemies !” 

The first scene of the first act had thus been played. 
The rest followed rapidly, and the catastrophe was 
at hand. 

The king was again and again brought before his 
judges. He resolutely refused, however, to acknowl- 
edge the competency of the tribunal ; and it was plain 
that violent measures would be called for. These 
were adopted. The king’s enemies had gone too far 
to recede : their own safety absolutely required that 
his blood should be shed. 

All was resolved upon at last; and for the fourth 
time his majesty was conducted to Westminster Hall. 

Bradshaw had already taken his seat, and wore a red 
dress. The fact was ominous, and the proceedings 

were brief. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


295 

“Read the list of members of the court,” growled 
the president, Bradshaw. 

The clerk began to read. At the name of “Fair- 
fax,” a voice from the gallery cried, — / 

“ Fairfax has too much wit to be here to-day 1” 

All eyes were raised. The voice was seen to have 
issued from a group of ladies who attended as spec- 
tators. 

Colonel Axtel, commanding the soldiery, shouted, 
with fury, — 

“ Present pieces ! — fire ! — fire into the box where 
she sits !” 

As he spoke, one of the ladies rose, in the centre 
of the group. For a moment she remained motionless, 
looking down with great scorn upon the rough faces of 
the troops, who were confusedly raising their musque- 
toons. She then slowly went out of the gallery ; and 
I heard from the crowd around me, — 

“ ’Tis Lady Fairfax ! They dare not harm her !” 

The reading of the list proceeded. At the name 
of Cromwell a new tumult rose. 

“Oliver Cromwell is a rogue and a traitor!” cried 
a second voice from the gallery. 

Axtel raged ; but the president made a gesture, and 
the reading proceeded. The clerk concluded by de- 
claring that the king was “called to answer by the 
people before the Commons of England assembled in 
parliament.” 

“ ’Tis false !” shouted the voice in the gallery ; “ not 
one half-quarter of them !” 

At this renewed interruption and open defiance. 
Colonel Axtel seemed ready to lose his head. He 


296 HER MAJESTY THE queen. 

foamed with rage, and shook his clenched hand towards 
the spot from which the voice had issued, shouting, 
“ Fire ! fire on them !” 

Bradshaw again interposed. Silence was obtained ; 
but a more important interruption was to come. 

The president began to pass sentence. 

“ I demand,” said the king, “ that the whole of the 
members of the House of Commons, and such lords 
as are in England, shall assemble to hear the sentence 
about to be pronounced upon me.” 

Bradshaw frowned angrily, and was about to proceed 
without noticing this protest, when one of the court 
started to his feet in great agitation and with tears on 
his cheeks. 

“Have we hearts of stone?” he exclaimed. “Are 
we men?” 

“You will ruin us, and yourself too !” came in a 
hoarse undertone from those near the speaker, whom 
they violently attempted to hold in his seat. 

“If I were to die for it !” was the renewed protest. 

Cromwell, who sat just beneath, turned and looked 
at the speaker with lowering eyes. 

“Colonel Downes,” he said, sternly, in his deep 
voice, “are you mad?” 

“No!” 

“ Can’t you sit still?” 

“ No ! I cannot and I will not sit still !” 

He broke from those attempting to hold him down. 

“I move,” he exclaimed, “that we adjourn to de- 
liberate ! ’ ’ 

Cromwell rose in a rage, and his eyes seemed to dart 
lightning as he looked at Downes. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEH. 


297 


“You wish to save your old master!” he said, in a 
storm of wrath ; “ but make an end of this, and return 
to your duty !” 

Cries and confused voices were heard, however, 
throughout the great hall ; and, doubtless reflecting 
that nothing would be lost thereby, the court de- 
termined to retire to deliberate. They went out at a 
side door, and remained absent for about half an hour ; 
then they reappeared, defiling in, stern, silent, and 
ominous. 

Bradshaw took his seat in the midst of cries of 
wrath, pity, and horror from the crowd, where Axtel 
exerted himself to obtain silence. 

In the midst of this silence, sentence was passed 
upon the king. 

He listened without a word, and, at the termination 
of the sentence, rose and put on his gloves. Axtel 
advanced and motioned to him. He obeyed the order 
of the man who now stood in the place of the heads- 
man, passed through the crowd of furious soldiery, 
who puffed the smoke of their pipes in his face, spat 
upon him, and yelled, “Justice! execution!” in his 
ears, and, entering his sedan-chair, — a luxury still 
permitted him, — was borne back to his place of im- 
prisonment, a man condemned to die. 

As he disappeared, a great cry rose above the crowd, 
struck with awe and horror. 

This cry was, — 

“ God help and save your majesty ! God keep you 
from your enemies !” 

One of the soldiers, even, joined in this cry, and was 
seen to do so by an officer, who felled him with one 


2 9 8 HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN 

blow. This took place as the king passed. He looked 
at the unfortunate man with a smile of sad pity. 

“Poor fellow !” he murmured, sighing: “ ’tisaheavy 
blow for so small an offense 1” 


IX. 


THE HAMMERING. 

The terrible comedy of the king’s trial had been 
played at Westminster : the tragedy in front of White- 
hall was to follow it speedily. 

Of those days which passed between the king’s sen- 
tence and execution I have no strength to speak. I 
was near him, with other friends, and was witness to a 
calmness and dignity worthy of a brave man and a 
monarch. The king’s nerves were unshaken : he pre- 
pared for his end with august composure ; and when 
he was informed that the people in power had con- 
sented to permit him to see his two children before his 
death, a smile of joy lit up the pale and emaciated face. 

This intelligence was brought to him on the night 
before his execution. He was writing at the instant, 
and laid down his pen to clasp his hands in deep grati- 
tude, raising his eyes, as he did so, to heaven. 

As the messenger disappeared, he turned to the 
friends around him, and said, with a smile, — 

“’Tis not forbidden a poor king in captivity t6 
make verses, my friends : I have thus employed myself 


her Majesty the queen. 


299 

after writing my last adieus to one from whom I am 
severed, — one very dear to me.” 

He took up the sheet upon which he had been writing. 
As he did so, a sudden hammering began in front of 
Whitehall. I shuddered ; for I knew that ’twas the 
workmen erecting the scaffold. 

“What is that?” the king asked, turning his head, 
and listening. 

No one replied. The sound of hammers continued. 
Suddenly the king’s cheeks filled with blood. 

“ I understand now. God’s will be done !” he mur- 
mured. “ But this shall not fright me!” 

The smile came back to his face, and he said, — 
“Will you hear one or two of my poor verses?” 

In the midst of sobs, he then read these verses : — 

“ The fiercest furies which do daily tread 
Upon my grief— my gray discrowned head — 

Are those who to my bounty owe their bread. 

“ Yet, sacred Saviour, with thy words I woo 
Thee to forgive, and not be bitter to 
Such (as thou knowest) know not what they do. 

" Augment my patience, nullify my hate, 

Preserve my children, and inspire my mate. 

Yet, though we perish, bless this Church and State 1” 

As he finished reading these words, the door opened, 
and Bishop Juxon appeared, his face pale, his bosom 
heaving. As he approached, the old prelate’s equa- 
nimity gave way, and he began to sob violently. 

The king raised his hand calmly, with a gesture of 
kindness. 

“ Compose yourself, my lord,” he said to the bishop. 


3 °° 


HEk MAJESTY the queen. 


“We have no time to waste on grief: let us rather 
think of the great matter. I must prepare to appear 
before God, to whom in a few hours I have to render 
my account. I hope to meet death with calmness, and 
that you will have the goodness to render me your 
assistance. Do not let us speak of the men into whose 
hands I have fallen. They thirst for my blood : they 
shall have it. God’s will be done ! I give him thanks. 
I forgive them all sincerely ; but let us say no more 
about them.” 

A harsh growl at the door was heard. The sentinels, 
guarding the king night and day now, had opened the 
door, and expressed by the growl their disgust at the 
supposed hypocrisy of the king. 

The weeping bishop motioned them away. 

“ Suffer us, my friends,” he said. 

And, as though these mild and faltering words had 
affected even the rough natures of the sentinels, they 
closed the door with a crash. 

The king then knelt and prayed long and devoutly. 
As he rose from his knees, he turned his head quickly. 
His face beamed with joy. 

“What has your majesty heard?” the bishop said. 

“I know not if I have heard them, but ’ tis the feet 
of my children !” 

Footsteps approached along the corridor, and reached 
the door : it was opened, and the little Princess Eliza- 
beth, a girl of about twelve, and the Duke of Gloucester, 
still younger, ran forward into their father’s arms. 

The children had burst into passionate tears ; but 
there were no tears in the eyes of the king. A delight 
beyond words shone in his pale face. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


30I 


“My little ones!” he murmured, covering their 
faces with kisses. “Thank God, they have permitted 
you to come to me ! Oh, yes, yes ! now I forgive them 
from my heart !” 

Some moments passed in those half-inarticulate ex- 
clamations, mingled with caresses, which are so touch- 
ing, — above all in a father embracing his children for 
the last time on earth. The children sobbed and held 
him closely. He never seemed weary of caressing and 
kissing them. 

At last he grew more composed, and his countenance 
assumed an expression of solemn gravity. 

“Sweet-heart,” he said, to the little princess, “do not 
forget what I tell thee. I wish you not to grieve and tor- 
ment yourself for me ; for it is a glorious death I shall die, 
for the laws and religion of the land. I have forgiven 
all my enemies, and I hope God will forgive them ; and 
you and your brothers and sisters must forgive them also. ’ * 

He paused, and I saw an expression of deep tender- 
ness come to his eyes. 

“You will see your mother, sweet-heart,” he said. 
“Tell her that my thoughts have never strayed from 
her, — that my love for her remains the same to the last. 
Love her, be obedient to her, and do not grieve for 
me: I die a martyr.” 

Nothing was heard in the deep silence which followed 
these words but the sobs and broken words of the little 
princess promising to obey these last commands of her 
father. 

The king raised his hand and passed it across his 
eyes. He then turned to' the little Duke of Gloucester, 
and, placing his arm around him, drew him upon his knee. 

26 


302 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN, \ 


“My child,” he said, “I wish you to heed what 
your father now says to you. They will cut off ray 
head, and perhaps make thee a king; but you must not 
be a king so long as your brothers Charles and James 
live. I therefore charge you, do not be made a king 
by them.” 

The child’s face flushed suddenly, and he looked at 
the king with a flash of the eyes shining through his tears. 

“I will be torn in pieces first !” he exclaimed. 

The king’s face glowed. 

“That is spoken like my son!” he said. “You 
rejoice me exceedingly 1” 

He bestowed a warm embrace upon the child, then, 
drawing the princess towards him, clasped both to his 
bosom. 

As he did so, the ominous sound of the hammers in 
front of Whitehall broke in. The king sobbed, nearly 
unmanned, and covered the children’s faces with kisses. 
As he did so, the guard advanced to remove them, and 
Bishop Juxon groaned. 

The king raised his head. “ Oh, ’tis pitiful ! Do 
not take them from me!” he exclaimed. 

The guard drew nearer, stern and unmoved. The 
hammering was heard through the open door. 

The king saw that the hour had come. With heav- 
ing bosom, he placed his hands on the heads of the 
children and blessed them. They sobbed passionately 
as the guard took them away ; and the king rose to his 
feet and turned aside to hide his tears. A window 
looked upon the court. He went to it, to see the last 
of them, if possible, and, leaning his face against the 
frame-work, sobbed aloud. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


3°3 

The children were passing through the door now, in 
charge of the guard, when all at once the king turned 
and hastened to them in an agony of weeping. Clasp- 
ing them for the last time in his arms, he covered them 
with kisses and caresses, called upon God to bless them, 
and, releasing them, staggered rather than walked back 
to his seat, into which he fell, concealing his face in 
his hands. 

The hammering from the front of Whitehall had 
never ceased. 


X. 


THE WALK TO WHITEHALL. 

At midnight the king, after performing his devo- 
tions, lay down, and was soon asleep. All had retired 
but his attendant Herbert and myself, who had been 
commanded to remain. 

The king had given me both a letter and messages 
for the queen. I was to convey these to her majesty 
after witnessing the king’s last hours, of which I was 
to give her a detailed account. 

I lay down on a pallet, — Herbert occupying another, 
— but could not sleep. The terrible events occurring 
around me excited my nerves and drove away my 
slumbers. Providence had decreed that I should thus 
witness the last moments of a condemned king, should 
be beside him and lose no detail of the tragedy. All 


304 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


had passed before me ; I was to be present to the end ; 
and the thought of what would take place on the 
morrow banished sleep. 

The night thus passed, the chamber lit only by a 
large taper which burned in the centre of a silver basin. 
Long shadows, funereal and ominous, fell upon the 
walls : nothing was heard but the quiet breathing of 
the king, who had for the time lost all consciousness 
of his misfortunes. 

About daybreak I was startled, however, by a deep 
groan from the pallet occupied by Herbert, the king’s 
attendant. I looked in the direction of the sound, 
and saw that the sleeper was tossing to and fro, the 
victim, it seemed, of some painful dream. Suddenly 
I saw the king rise on his elbow. 

“Herbert!” he called; and the faithful attendant 
at once awoke. 

“What is the matter?” said the king. “You groan 
fearfully in your sleep ! ’ ’ 

Herbert passed his hand across his brow, as though 
he were confused. 

“I have been dreaming, your majesty,” he stam- 
mered. 

“Tell me your dream,” came from the king. 

Herbert sighed, and said, — 

“ I dreamed, your majesty, that Archbishop Laud, in * 
his pontifical robes, entered this apartment and knelt 
before your majesty, who looked at him with a pensive 
expression of countenance. Conversation then took 
place between the archbishop and your majesty; he 
sighed deeply, seemed in pain ; then the talk ended ; 
he inclined before your majesty, and was going towards 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 305 

the door again, when suddenly he fell prostrate on the 
floor.” 

The king had listened without interrupting the 
speaker. He now remained an instant buried in re- 
flection. 

‘‘Your dream is remarkable, Herbert,” he said, at 
length, in a pensive tone. “ But the archbishop is dead. ’ ’ 

He paused again for a moment. 

“Had I conferred with the archbishop,” he added, 
“it is possible, albeit I loved him well, that I might 
have said somewhat which would have caused his sigh.” 

As he spoke, the king threw aside the coverlet. 

“I will now rise,” he said. “I have a great work 
to do this day.” 

He seated himself, and motioned to Herbert to dress 
his hair. The attendant obeyed, but his hand trem- 
bled, as though from cold, — the fire in the apartment 
having died out. 

“Nay,” the king said, calmly, “though my head 
be not to stand long on my shoulders, take the same 
pains with it that you were wont to do. This is my 
second marriage-day, Herbert.” 

Herbert obeyed with trembling hands, and I ob- 
served the king shiver. 

“ ’Tis very cold,” he said. “ Give me an additional 
shirt. The weather may make me shake ; and I would 
have no imputation of fear. Death is not terrible to 
me. I bless my God I am prepared.” 

As he spoke, Bishop Juxon entered, his face pale and 
woe-begone. 

“Welcome, my lord,” the king said. “Will you 
pray with me?” 


3o 6 her majesty the queen. 

The bishop knelt down, and in a faltering voice 
uttered a fervent prayer, which the king listened to, 
kneeling also devoutly. He then resumed his seat; 
and the bishop read from the Gospel of St. Matthew. 

“ Did you choose this chapter, my lord, as applicable 
to my situation?” asked the king, when he had ended. 

“It is the gospel of the day, as the calendar indi- 
cates, your majesty,” replied the bishop. 

The king’s face exhibited great emotion. The chap- 
ter read by the bishop was that which gives an account 
of the trial, condemnation, and execution of our Sa- 
viour. A strange chance — if there be any chance — 
had made it the regular gospel of the day, in accord- 
ance with the calendar. The king resumed a moment 
afterwards his kneeling position. I could see his lips 
moving. A deep silence — the silence of prayer and 
pity — reigned in the apartment. 

The king had just risen, when the door opened, and 
the guard appeared. 

“I am ready,” he said, calmly. 

And, placing his hat upon his head, he descended the 
staircase into St. James’s Park. The path to Whitehall 
was lined with ten companies of infantry. In front of 
the king moved a detachment of halberdiers, with drums 
beating and colors flying. 

The king walked on slowly, exhibiting no emotion 
of any description, — on his right the good bishop, on 
his left Colonel Tomlinson, of the army, and myself. 
The king was absolutely composed, the soldier full of 
compassion for him. This sentiment was so plain that 
his majesty observed it, and, taking a gold etui which 
he wore, said, — 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN . 


3°7 


“ I beg you will accept this, sir, as a token of remem- 
brance, and that you will not leave me until all is over.” 

The soldier bowed his head, and took the gift with 
deep emotion. 

“I will observe your majesty’s command,” he said. 
“ Dare I ask your majesty if there be any truth in what 
I conceive to be a terrible slander concerning you?” 

“Ask your question, my friend.” 

“Did your majesty concur with the Duke of Buck- 
ingham in causing your late father’s death?” 

The king’s face assumed a smile of pity. 

“My friend,” he said, “if I had no other sin than 
that, God knows I should have little need to beg his 
forgiveness at this hour.” 

“Then ” 

The reply was not finished. A sudden roar from the 
drums interrupted it. They were near Whitehall, and 
the king said to the guard, — 

“Come on, my good fellows: step apace.” 

And, pointing to a tree, he added, to Bishop Juxon, — 

“ That tree was planted by my brother Henry.” 

These trifles all engraved themselves indelibly upon 
my memory. If they are otherwise unimportant, they 
still indicate the king’s calmness. 

He had now reached the flight of stairs which leads 
from the park into Whitehall. As he entered the 
palace, Colonel Tomlinson said, — 

“ Here are two Independent ministers, your majesty, 
who offer their spiritual aid and prayers.” 

The king paused, but replied, almost immediately, — 

“ Say to them frankly that they have so often prayed 
against me that they shall not pray with me in my 


3°8 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


agony; but if they will pray for me now, tell them 
that I shall be thankful.” 

As he spoke, the king turned to me, and held out 
his hand. 

“I must leave you now, friend,” he said. “You 
must not go with me to the scaffold. You have my 
last request. Convey the letter you wot of ; tell her 
to w r hom ’tis addressed that she was in my heart to the 
last ; and may God bless and keep you , as my faithful 
friend, always!” 

I could make no reply, but, falling upon my knees, 
pressed the king’s hand to my lips, with sobs. 

A moment afterwards he had disappeared within the 
palace. 


XI. 

THE EXECUTION. 

I hastened to the front of the palace, where rose, 
grim and threatening, the scaffold with its block, upon 
which the execution was to take place. 

A frightful dream, rather than a series of real events, 
seemed playing before me, and I could scarce collect 
my thoughts or reason upon the situation. A great 
crowd blocked up the street, of mingled soldiery and 
civilians. Round hats and gleaming arms were mixed 
together in enormous confusion ; and through the 
mighty multitude awaiting the terrible scene ran a low, 
vague murmur, like the sound of waves before they are 
fashed to fury in a tempest. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEH. 


30 $ 

I staggered on, rather than walked, and almost by 
main force made a path through the mass towards 
the scaffold. More than once I came near becoming 
engaged in a personal collision from my urgency. A 
soldier whom I had thrust aside aimed a savage blow 
at me with his halberd, and a burly ruffian into whose 
ribs I struck my elbow overwhelmed me with blasphe- 
mous curses. I disregarded all, however, and, thanks 
to my persistence, reached a position near the scaffold. 

The crowd was agitated, and many faces were pale. 

‘ ‘ Poor king !” said a woman, — for there were many 
in the mass; — “see! they have driven iron staples in 
the scaffold, to chain him down if he resists !” 

“Poor heart!” came in response; but with these 
pitying exclamations mingled hoarse shouts of “Exe- 
cution ! execution!” 

I was now in the immediate vicinity of the scaffold. 
My head was turning, wellnigh, at thought of the 
coming spectacle; but in the midst of this confused 
dream, as ’twere, rose clear and vivid the thought, 
“Who will act as executioner?” Gregory Brandon, 
the official headsman, had fled from London, and would 
not strike off the king’s head if they found him. Who 
would? To volunteer was too infamous for the most 
infamous. It might be that no Englishman could be 
found who would act as headsman ! 

A fearful commentary upon this desperate hope was 
speedily presented. The crowd surged to and fro ; a 
path was made through the compact mass ; and through 
this opening advanced two figures, from whom the most 
brutal shrank back. 

The figures were clad in a close woolen garb, then 


HER MAJESTY THH QUEEN. 


V* 

peculiar to butchers. One wore a long gray peruke, 
beard, and black mask; the other a black peruke and 
mask, and a black hat whose heavy flap was caught up 
in front. Something peculiar in the walk of this latter 
proved that it was Gregory Brandon. But who was the 
personage in the gray beard ? 

The men mounted the scaffold in the midst of loud 
cries. Then all became silent. Through a window in 
front of the palace, the king walked straight to the scaf- 
fold, accompanied only by Bishop Juxon and Herbert. 
As he reached it, I saw the figure taken for that of 
Gregory Brandon kneel to him. I pushed nearer, and 
came within hearing just as the king turned quickly, see- 
ing some one touch the headman’s axe, exclaiming, — 

“ Have a care of the axe ! If the edge is spoiled, 
’twill be the -worse for me!” 

Meanwhile the headsman had remained upon his 
knees. He now said, in a muffled voice, — the voice 
of Gregory Brandon, — 

“ I entreat your majesty’s forgiveness for performing 
this terrible duty.” 

The king shook his head. 

“No,” he said: “I forgive no subject of mine who 
comes deliberately to shed my blood !” 

The headsman groaned, and I saw a shudder pass 
through his frame.* He rose, and, with head bowed 
upon his breast, awaited. 


* Sir Henry Ellis records that Gregory Brandon, dragged unwill- 
ingly to execute the king, pined away for want of the forgiveness 
refused him, and died less than two years afterwards, declaring that 
“ he always saw the king as he appeared on the scaffold, and that, 
Withal, devils did tear him on his death-bed.” — E ditor. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


311 

The king had turned away, and uttered a few words 
to Bishop Juxon. He then raised the long locks of 
gray hair flowing upon his neck, and said to the 
headsman, — 

“ Is any of my hair in the way ?” 

“ I beg your majesty to push it more under your 
cap,” came in muffled tones from the black mask, 
whose wearer bowed low. 

In observing this ceremony, Bishop Juxon assisted 
his majesty. 

“ There is but one stage more, your majesty,” faltered 
the good bishop, “ which, though turbulent and trouble- 
some, is yet a short one. Consider : it will carry you 
a great way, — even from earth to heaven.” 

The king inclined his head. 

“ I go from a corruptible to an incorruptible crown,” 
he said, “ where no disturbance can take place.” 

As he uttered these calm words, the king threw off 
his cloak, and gave his George to the bishop, with the 
single word, “Remember!” He then removed his 
coat, resumed the cloak, and, pointing to the block, 
said to the headsman, — 

“Place it so that it will not shake.” 

“It is firm,” came from the headsman, who shud- 
dered so that he could scarce hold the axe. 

“ I shall say a short prayer,” the king said, as calmly 
as before. “When I hold out my hand, thus, — strike.” 

The king stood for a moment with closed eyes, his 
lips moving in prayer. Then he raised his eyes to 
heaven, knelt, and placed his head upon the block; 
and the headsman, with a single blow, severed his head 
from his body. 


$12 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEtf. 


As the head rolled upon the scaffold, and the body 
recoiled from the block, a cry burst from the vast 
crowd, — shouts and weeping mingled. 

Above the mass, thus agitated and moving to and 
fro, rose the scaffold, where the gray headsman, the 
associate of the wretched Brandon, held up the drip- 
ping head of the king, crying, — 

“ This is the head of a traitor !” 


XII. 

SO WENT THE KING WHITE TO HIS GRAVE. 

I left the scene of the king’s execution, staggering 
in my gait like a drunken man, and for hours there- 
after wandered about London, the prey to a species of 
nightmare which chilled and fevered me by turns. All 
objects which my dull eyes rested upon seemed unreal, 
like the shapes seen in dreams. I scarce knew where 
I was ; could see nothing but that one fearful group on 
the terrible platform in front of Whitehall. 

Night fell, and still I went to and fro like one 
who has lost his way. Then, I know not how, I found 
myself again in the neighborhood of Whitehall. The 
streets were deserted ; the great crowd had vanished : 
save the light in a window on the ground-floor of the 
palace, I saw no evidence that London was not a city 
of the dead. 

Towards the light a strange attraction drew me. 
Without any definite design, I went to the great door 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


of the palace : it was open. The hall was deserted. I 
entered, approached the door of the apartment from 
which the light shone, and, reaching the threshold, saw 
before me a singular spectacle. 

In a coffin, covered with black velvet, lay the body 
of Charles I., the head replaced in its natural position, 
the lips wearing a sweet smile. 

Beside it stood three persons, and in shadow at one 
corner of the room were a number of stern-faced hal- 
berd-bearers, erect and motionless as statues. 

The three persons were Colonel Axtel, dark, sombre, 
and sullen ; Sir Purbeck Temple, a friend of the king, 
whom I knew well and at once recognized ; the third 
personage was the now terrible General Cromwell. 

General Cromwell was standing beside the coffin, 
with his back turned to me; and I could not see his 
face. His left hand was placed beneath his right elbow ; 
the other hand supported his chin. As I reached the 
threshold, Sir Purbeck Temple had drawn near to the 
coffin, and was looking at the king’s face with half- 
suppressed sobs. 

“My poor master!” he exclaimed; “and this is 
all that is left of thee !” 

“ Did you expect to find him alive,” growled Axtel, 
“ after the blow of the axe?” 

Sir Purbeck was silent for an instant. Then he 
faltered, — 

“ I know not what I expected, sir. But I have read 
that a species of divinity and holiness hedges a 
king! ” 

He could say no more. Axtel growled: the word 
best describes the sound he uttered. He extended his 

27 


o 


3*4 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


hand towards the body; a smile of contempt curled 
his sullen lips, and he said, with a heavy frown, — 

“If thou thinkest there is any holiness in kingship, 
look there !” 

Sir Purbeck Temple made no reply. I could see the 
tears on his cheeks. 

General Cromwell had meanwhile remained silent 
and motionless, gazing at the body, as he afterwards 
gazed at the king’s portrait, — hiding his secret thoughts. 

Suddenly he moved and drew near the coffin. For 
an instant he paused again. Then, reaching out his 
hand, he raised the head of the corpse, looked at it, 
and at the body, and said, in his deep voice, — 

“This was a well-constituted frame, and promised 
long life !” 

As he uttered these words he replaced the head in 
the coffin, turned away, passed by me slowly, without 
appearing to be aware of my presence, and went out 
of the door of the palace. 

In my turn I approached the coffin, and gazed long 
at the king. His lips were smiling : he had died, 
plainly, forgiving all his enemies. I bent down and 
pressed a last kiss on the thin hand. A growl from 
Axtel, and a harsh order to leave the apartment, fol- 
lowed. I left the room and the palace, and was again 
in the streets, — seeing nothing, as I went on, but the 
cold face and the smile of the king. 

Let me finish the gloomy record. 

The body of Charles I. was conveyed to St. James’s 
Palace, where it was embalmed. It was then taken to 
Windsor Castle, Cromwell having refused sepulture for 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


3*5 

the king in Westminster Abbey ; and at Windsor it was 
committed to the earth. The pall-bearers were the 
Duke of Richmond, the Earl of Hertford, and the 
Lords Lindsay and Southampton. As the coffin cov- 
ered with black velvet was borne from the hall, — the 
only inscription upon it, “Carolus Rex, 1648,” cut 
with a penknife, — the snow began to fall slowly and 
tranquilly, as though it mourned the dead man. 

By the time it reached the chapel, the pall of black 
velvet was entirely white. 

“So went our king white to his grave!” said his 
weeping pall-bearers. 

Not even the burial-service of the Church had been 
permitted to be read over the king’s grave. 


XIII. 

AN OLD CAVALIER OF THE KING. 

I might here terminate my memoirs : the great epic 
is finished, and the curtain has fallen on the tragedy. 
But some incidents remain to be narrated, which refer 
to my personal fortunes; and my children, if no others, 
will like to hear of these incidents and of what marked 
my last days in England. 

On the night of the scene at Whitehall, I wandered 
about London, laboring under a sort of stupor of grief 
and despair. A new blow was, however, coming. Fate 
had not exhausted her malice. 

I had entered a low tavern, worn out and seeking a 


316 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEH. 


spot to rest. On the rude table, covered with beer- 
stains, lay a newspaper, which I took up mechanically. 
As my eye fell upon it, I saw my father’s name ; and 
as I read, my heart sank within me. The paper gave 
a list of estates belonging to royalists, which had been 
confiscated. Cecil Court was among them, and the 
name of Sir Jervas Ireton opposite indicated that the 
estate had been conveyed to him. 

This intelligence came near to unman me. Then 
my dear and honored father would be turned adrift, 
homeless, in his old age ! The sworn foe of our family 
had wreaked his utmost vengeance upon us ! The 
coarse Sir Jervas Ireton would rule in the ancient home 
of the Cecils ! 

I rose, my head turning, nearly. Whither should I 
go ? To France, leaving this blow to fall upon my 
father? I could not: I must first see him. But how 
to get to Warwickshire ? I had no horse: was penni- 
less. I went out of the tavern with a fire burning in 
my brain, and tottered rather than walked along the 
deserted streets. 

I was going along thus, the prey of a despair which 
I could not resist, when, just as I passed beneath a 
swinging lamp, I heard the clatter of hoofs. They 
drew nearer. I raised my head, the light shone upon 
my face, and I heard my name uttered. 

A moment afterwards, a cavalier, whose horse’s hoofs 
had made the clatter, stopped near me, threw himself 
from the saddle, and passed his arm around me. 

“ Cecil, you are ill !” he exclaimed. 

The light fell upon the speaker, and I recognized 
Colonel Edward Cooke. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


317 


* ‘ What mean you by wandering through the streets 
at this hour, friend?” he continued. “You are pale 
and woe-begone : you have seen all to-day, I doubt 
not. But come ! you are ill, Cecil ! Tell me whither 
you go.” 

In a few words I told him of the confiscation of Cecil 
Court, and of my resolution to see my father again 
before I left England forever. 

“Well,” the old cavalier said, “nothing is easier, 
friend. You know I live near London, and my stud 
is not yet seized. My horses are famous ones, as you 
know; and you shall take your choice. Come! my 
servant will give you his cob, and make the journey 
home on foot. Come, friend ! — we poor forlorn cava- 
liers should help each other.” 

I responded by a warm pressure of the hand, and 
was soon in the saddle. Half an hour afterwards we 
had left London by a by-way where there was no sen- 
tinel, and two hours later reined in our horses in front 
of the old manor-house of Colonel Cooke. I had 
visited the house twice before, the reader will remember, 
— first to bear to the old cavalier the queen’s note 
requesting him to be ready with his horses when she 
thought to fly with her children to France, and again 
to make arrangements for the king’s escape from 
Hampton Court. The old house shone now in a 
bright moonlight, which lit up, too, the leafless and 
spectral trees ; but within, in the great fireplace of an 
apartment hung round with portraits, roared a fire of 
logs, which revived our chilled limbs. 

My host proceeded at once to produce flagons and 
cold meats. The food and rich wine warmed me and 


31 8 her majesty the queen. 

brought back my energies. Then, lighting a pipe, and 
puffing clouds of smoke from beneath his gray mus- 
tache, Colonel Cooke began to speak of the terrible 
event of the day just passed. 

I have no space to repeat our conversation. It 
extended far into the night. All over England, I 
think, that night, poor cavaliers like ourselves were 
conferring on the future and shedding tears over the 
past. 

At last Colonel Cooke rose, and the light fell full 
upon his tall figure and his brave face, with its gray 
mustache, and its sparkling eyes yet undimmed by 
age. 

“ You must be weary, friend,” he said ; “and your 
bed is ready. At dawn my best horse will be saddled : 
take him ; I make you a present of him. God bless 
and prosper you ! And now a last cup !” 

He filled my cup and his own, raised his above his 
head, and, with flashing eyes, exclaimed, — 

“ Confusion to Cromwell and his gang, and God 
save his majesty King Charles II. !” 

With a close pressure of the hand, we parted, and I 
retired to rest. 

On the next morning by sunrise I was riding at a 
gallop in the direction of Warwickshire. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


3 J 9 


XIV. 

THE HOUSE BESIDE THE HIGHWAY. 

The animal which my host had presented me with 
was a superb hunter, in the finest condition. He plainly 
asked nothing better than to be permitted to go at top 
speed ; and thus league after league fled from under 
his feet, every moment bore me nearer and nearer to 
Cecil Court. 

I will not interrupt my narrative to speak of my 
thoughts and feelings, or to paint the gloomy picture 
of rural England in that winter of 1648. ’Twas ter- 
rible, what I saw as I went on my rapid journey. War 
had stamped its destroying heel on the lovely land 
of the past, and a curse seemed hovering over the 
once-smiling fields. I shall not speak further of my 
journey, save to relate one singular incident which 
befell me. 

I was proceeding at a rapid gait in the direction of 
Oxford, when, raising my eyes, which had been bent 
upon the ground, I saw, beside the road I was follow- 
ing, a small house which seemed familiar to me. A 
second glance, and I had fully recognized it. ’Twas 
that to which I had been conducted by Gregory Bran- 
don and his daughter, and where I had held the inter- 
view with the sick dwarf Geoffrey Hudson. 

As I drew near, I saw that the house was uninhabited ; 
but in front of the door stood a horse covered with 


320 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


foam, apparently from a rapid journey. Who could 
have thus stopped, I asked myself, to enter this de- 
serted house? To whom could this animal, covered 
with foam-flakes, belong? I determined to solve the 
question speedily, dismounted, and entered the house. 
Before me, seated on a broken chair, and leaning his 
head upon an old table, I saw no less a personage than 
the dwarf Hudson. 

As my footsteps resounded on the creaking floor, he 
quickly raised his head. 

“ Ah, ’tis you?” he said, drearily. “ At first I thought 
’twas a ghost. Whence come you, sir?” 

“From London. And you, friend?” 

“From London also.” 

“You have ridden rapidly.” 

“I set out at midnight.” 

“ Then you saw all?” 

“All.” 

I looked at the strange being, who had answered my 
questions in his thin voice with an accent of sombre 
indifference. The dwarf seemed to be laboring under 
the crushing weight of a sentiment which resembled 
despair. 

“You were in the crowd yonder?” I said, at a loss 
how to continue the conversation. 

“Yes,” he replied, in the same dull and dreamy 
tone. 

“You recognized him; I mean the headsman?” 

“ Yes : ’twas Gregory Brandon.” 

“And his assistant?” 

“ Hulet : they paid him a hundred pounds to assist 
at the execution,” 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


3 21 

“Hulet! is it possible? The man in the gray 
beard Hulet?” 

“ Yes, Hulet, — the man who had Brandon dragged 
from this place of concealment, — who persecuted to 
the death the woman I loved, — who has paid at last 
for all, and will plot no more.” 

“ Paid for all ?” 

“ He is dead.’ 

“ Dead?” 

“Killed in a drunken brawl in a low tavern, at 
nightfall after the execution.” 

I remained silent at this strange intelligence. Then 
I looked again at the dwarf. 

“You say that Hulet persecuted to the death 

whom?” 

“Janet Brandon, of whom I knew as Janet Gregory 
here ! He was crazy about her, — harassed her with 
his importunities. She fell ill, and that wretch stood 
beside her death-bed and taunted her.” 

The dwarf turned pale as he spoke, and uttered a 
low groan. 

“All is ended for me in life,” he added, in the 
same low dull tone. “ I have left courts forever, and 
go to my obscure home to hide my misery. You were 
my friend, and here farewell ! We shall never meet on 
earth again, — but some day — I shall see her — yonder!” 

He pointed to heaven, went out of the deserted 
house, mounted his horse, and disappeared. 

Such was my last meeting with this singular being, 
of whom I never afterwards heard, 
o* 


322 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


XV. 

V 

HOME AGAIN. 

I rode on towards Cecil Court, lost in gloomy 
thought. The interview with the dwarf, who had 
thus informed me of the death of Janet Brandon and 
the man Hulet, had deepened the sombre mood which 
oppressed me. 

But something still more tragic awaited me. I 
should probably arrive at Cecil Court to find it in 
possession of the foe of my family, — my father home- 
less, the name of Cecil replaced by that of Ireton ! 
The memory of my poor brother Harry came to add 
poignancy to these gloomy reflections. Had he been 
spared, we might have borne up : leaning on his strong 
arm, my dear father might have gone forth again into 
the world. I was left ; but I was nothing. Oh, if my 
brave strong Harry had not fallen ! 

Haunted by these sombre thoughts, I continued my 
way, and drew near Keynton. Near the village I met 
an acquaintance, a poor man of the place. 

“Go not thither, Master Cecil,” he said: “there be 
soldiers of the godly faction there.” 

“They would arrest me, then, friend?” 

“Yes, master. See, the man yonder is moving this 
way.” 

It was necessary to avoid arrest above all things ; 
and I turned into a side-road. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


3 2 3 


u A last word, friend,” I said. “My father?” 

“The squire be well, master; but look you !” 

The trooper was riding towards me; and, setting 
spur to my horse, I followed a bridle-path which led 
straight through the woods towards Cecil Court. 

In half an hour I emerged from the wood, and the 
old home of my family was before me. Oh, how 
my heart yearned towards it ! How my pulse leaped 
at sight of the dearly-loved roof! I put spur to my 
horse, went at full speed across the fields, drew near, 
passed through the great gate, then, galloping up the 
familiar old avenue, I threw myself from the saddle, 
and approached the broad door. 

As I did so, a brilliant gleam from between two 
clouds fell upon the old portico. My heel clashed on 
the flags ; I heard a cry; the door opened, and I found 
myself caught in the arms of my father, — and of Harry ! 


XVI. 

A FRIEND IN NEED, AND INDEED. 

There are some scenes, reader, which the most elo- 
quent chronicler shrinks from describing, feeling that 
words have not yet been invented adequate to convey 
his emotion. 

My brother whom I thought dead was thus alive, 
and I clasped him in my arms ! The dear laughing 
face was there again before me, — the warm hand pressed 


3 2 4 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


my own : it was Harry, — Harry ! and, holding him 
close to me, I laughed and cried like a child. 

The history of this marvel was given me in few 
words. Harry had been fearfully but not mortally 
wounded on the day of Naseby. With the wounded 
of both sides, he had been conveyed to an obscure hos- 
pital in London, and only after long confinement to 
his bed had he been able to rise again. He was then 
conducted to prison : his obscure existence was unre- 
corded. At last his prison-door had opened ; and here 
he was again at home. 

“That’s the whole, Ned,” he laughed,— “ except 
something else. Shall I tell that too?” 

“Speak, Harry.” 

“ No ; I’ll think I’ll let madam tell you in person.” 

“ Madam!” 

“ Certainly. Do you remember our visit to my lord 
Falkland’s house ‘ Great Tew’ ?” 

“Yes! yes!” 

“And his handsome and most agreeable niece 
Alice?” 

I started, gazing at him with wide eyes. 

“ She has come to see us, now !” 

And, opening an inner door, Harry called out, 
laughing,— 

“Alice!” 

The beautiful girl hastened in, bright-eyed, laughing, 
and holding up her red cheek. 

“Welcome, brother Edmund !” she said. 

I pressed my lips to the red cheek, lost in a maze of 
wonder. As I did so, I felt two arms around my neck, 
and Cicely’s lips close pressed to my own. 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


3*S 


“ Oh, brother ! God be thanked !” 

The child began to cry then, and only held me 
closer. 

“ My little Cicely l” I exclaimed, returning her em- 
brace. Then I added, laughing, — 

“ You at least are not married ?” 

Harry burst into laughter. 

“ Ask Frank Villiers there if she’s not !” he cried. 

I turned, feeling as though I were in a dream. Be- 
fore me stood young Frank Villiers, with his chestnut 
curls, blue eyes, and joyous smile, enjoying plainly my 
astonishment, my dumb stupor. 

“Let me explain all, my son, in a very few words,’* 
said my father, in his mild sweet voice. “ Harry and 
Cicely have just been married, and are about to leave 
me. They go beyond seas until the troubles of Eng- 
land have blown over. God has mercifully returned 
my dear Harry to me back from the grave, and now 
sends you too to add to the joy of my old heart 1” 

My father had scarce uttered these words, when hoof- 
strokes clattered up the avenue. 

“Who comes so fast?” he said, going to the door, 
and opening it. 

A moment afterwards I saw rush in the figure of 
young Jervas Ireton. He was covered with dust, and 
held a paper in his hand. 

“Make haste, Mr. Harry, and Mr. Ned, and all!” 
he exclaimed. “They are coming to arrest you! — 
from Keynton ! — the troopers!” 

“To arrest us?” I said, coldly. “Doubtless ’tis 
your good father, sir.” 

“Father? Why, he’s dead!” exclaimed the young 
28 


326 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


hopeful, without any exhibition of feeling. “ Died of 
the quinsy, — furious because I’d married the game- 
keeper’s daughter ! Her name was Cicely, — she’s a 
beauty! But hurry, Mr. Ned and Harry! I’m your 
friend ; not one of the godly. I have no opinions of 
any consequence ! Order your coach, quick, and horses 
too, and get to Charlecote with the ladies ! Stay ! the 
troopers are coming. See, yonder on the hill !” 

A glance indicated that the warning was judicious. 
On the summit of a hill about half a mile from the 
house was seen a party of troopers approaching at a 
round trot. 

“I’ll see to the coach without a moment’s delay!” 
Harry exclaimed ; “and you, young ladies, gather up 
your jewels and laces and be ready ! Ned, you and I 
will go on horseback. Your horse will await you in 
tl^e shrubbery near the coach.” 

Cicely and the fair Alice were hastening out, when 
young Ireton caught the hand of the former. 

“ Do you remember old times, Cicely?” 

“Yes, — oh, thank you, Jervas; but don’t keep me.” 

“You are going away now, and I won’t see you 
again, Cicely.” 

“Good-by, Jervas.” 

“ One moment, Cicely. I am not of much conse- 
quence; but I’m not a bad fellow, and I will try to 
show you that.” 

He unfolded the paper in his hand. 

“I loved you, Cicely,” he went on, “and mar- 
ried the gamekeeper’s daughter because she’s named 
Cicely too ! I love you still, and Mr. Ned, and Harry, 
and Mr. Cecil, and all of you. My father’s dead, and 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


327 


I’m the master, and this deed . is mine. It is the deed 
to my father for Cecil Court, which they confiscated. 
Here, Cicely ! that is my wedding-present. Now give 
me a kiss !” 

He tore the deed in pieces, and presented it to her. 

“ Good, good Jervas ! You are a true friend ! Oh, 
thank you ! you shall have a good kiss, indeed !” 

And Cicely held up her lips quickly ; the youth be- 
stowed a resounding salute thereon : a moment after- 
wards, Cicely had disappeared, and the troopers were 
seen rapidly approaching. 

“ Go, my son,” said my father. “ I have seen you, 
and you must not run the risk of prison ! God be 
thanked, my old eyes have looked again upon my chil- 
dren ! Embrace me ! God bless you !” 

I threw myself into my father’s arms, shook hands 
with Jervas, and ran to my horse, which stood in the 
shrubbery. 

As the troopers thundered up to the door, the coach 
containing Cicely, Alice, and Frank Villiers disap- 
peared in the wood behind the house. 

Harry and I followed on horseback ; and we gained 
Charlecote in safety. 

On the next morning the coach with its gentlemen 
outriders set out for the coast. Fortune served us. We 
obtained passage on a vessel bound for Holland. 

Three days afterwards our feet pressed the soil of 
the continent. We were beyond the reach of all our 
enemies. 


328 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


XVII. 

VIRGINIA. 

A few pages more will terminate my memoirs. 

I found her majesty the queen at the chateau of the 
Duchess de Montmorenci, in a hall hung with black 
ever since the execution of the great duke by Riche- 
lieu. And here in this funereal mansion the illustrious 
widows mingled their tears. 

The queen scarce shed any when I gave her the 
king’s letter and last message. A dumb despair seemed 
to have dried up the fount of her tears ; and when I 
had finished my tragic narrative she simply dropped 
her head, fixing her eyes steadily upon the floor, and, 
seeing that she had forgotten my presence, I silently 
went out of the apartment, leaving the august mourner 
to herself. 

Frances Villiers had remained with her, and now 
received me and soothed me. Need I relate what 
followed ? The sole obstacle to our union had been 
the promise made to Harry. He was not dead now, 
but alive, and certainly would never more prove my 
rival. Thus I came to Frances, and took her hand 
and pressed it to my lips. An hour afterwards she had 
promised me ; and in a month she was my wife, — the 
dearest and best wife man ever had. 

Thus, friendly reader, whether of my own blood or 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


32 9 

other, I have come to the end of my story. Would 
you have a few words more, and know how my life 
passed afterwards? The record will fill but a page, 
and I lay it before you. I remained on the continent, 
attached to the French court, until the summer of 
1650, when I went with his majesty Charles II. on 
that ill-fated expedition that terminated at Worcester. 
I shared his perils and adventures thereafter, and may 
some day relate them. Now I will record only the 
fact that I escaped in safety and rejoined my wife in 
Paris. 

The year afterwards I was in Virginia, and was build- 
ing my house here on York River. Some old cavalier 
friends had preceded me, and told marvels of the 
country, — of the cheap and fertile lands, the stately 
rivers, and the charming climate. I therefore col- 
lected my resources, set sail from France, established 
myself on the great York, and have never revisited 
England. 

The Cecils flourish there still, — Harry being the 
head of the house. My dear father is long since dead, 
— God rest him, and bless his memory ! And Harry, the 
owner of Cecil Court, writes me at length by every 
sailing-vessel, filling his sheet with laughing comments 
on affairs around him, and memories of old times. 

Just across the York resides Frank Villiers with his 
wife Cicely, — a well-to-do planter, surrounded by rosy- 
faced children. He and my dear friend Mr. Page of 
“Rosewell” are here constantly. And my old age 
thus passes serenely in the midst of my family and 
friends, beneath the sunshine of one of the most beauti- 
ful of all lands. 

* 8 * 


330 


HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. 


For all I am grateful, — chiefest of all for my dear 
wife and my happy children. God made the first portion 
of my existence stormy; he has mercifully sent the 
sunshine to bathe with its mild splendor my old age. 
I thank him humbly, and strive to love my fellow- 
creatures as I should. Old enmities have long since 
disappeared from my heart. The smiles of my dear 
Frances and my little ones shine brightly. And that 
cheerful sunshine lights up my life, blotting out all the 
sad memories of the past. 


THE END. 










































































t 


\ 





































* 



















































































. 











©O' * Mf# "■ 


A. X* 


• v? ' 




A V 


A 0 ®* 
c> 


'*$* / * 0 H 0 > ' 0 * 



o 0 
A X 


y A. 'r^m 



'AA - * r\ 


«<• ^r^/zni^ x ^ 

C °^ “ ♦ , , . * ' .#' ^ ' * ., h 0 ’' & 

. <V * x * 0 A 7 o V- s s T » > cv* * 

*v - Aw A « aV * ffi-rife * ^ a x - Av$ 




z ^ ^ Xxx>j - a v </> : ^ 

v * v -> vv^v^* # % •. 

■AV'V \-«. V'* 

_.. , .% V, a'* ' •■“ 

- x ^ v .= aAA-i . -o 

W - x°°,. ' AP#*: *> 

«'„0 ' r> *?*&&** A 




A 

c,^ 

A* ° 

A- X 


o 

<* 

1 A 1 


s 

V /V, 

^ -t 'P 

v ' 

+ 


V M& \i^ * ' ‘ J ..\ 


- ,, * *'• ®5 •:, . A’ 7 a 

* ?.-W^ * ^ r M, 


■ ^Ji\xv 

i O o 

<y <y ■> a VJ 

••'♦ > ,no a * 
\ * 



A a 




< j 0.k* A A 

* ^ *V c 0 * c <. V 

^ 'P A * <* 

A <«. .-sfvxX \V»Sb J 



"A 


\V 'O, " J, -> <VJ O *- -S a* 

y s'** 0 H ° ^ * 8 "* v 

■ v" /w* ^ A V A « */* V V A 


> * “> s 


* A % 

A > » '' ■ -i . 

■* A 


V'/' V , „ 

v Sv /A o </> A 1 

^ ^ A 


rv 

X* ^ 


0 


0‘ v 


? 0 


X 



~\s 


' •>* v 

« <2 0 
<r i C 

:• ' >> * - 0 V u ' »'** %V ,Trr; '>:! ' 7 Cv^’ •>; v 

> ^ te a * . 'P . . ^ ^ ^ ^ 


0 



® a y c^. 

^AK ^ A ^ * 

» -i • r> X v. e 

■^.•"As' A 

O rtv 



o o A 


^ AX' <P- 

* Q, O- ^ X & * 

C •' 0 * A A A ^-V y 

„ *, '/. c !JL c, A o - 

!W^ ^ ^ V « /s\ 







y ^ ^ o' "*■ 

•' a- ^ ^ ^^ 2 - * n 0 ^ a 

\0\s-, ^ ,.».V *'"* ,0 O-V 


w o 


X 00 ^ 


*. v;^ 


cf* ‘ * , 

V*. '» N 


v\* 


P ^ c,- * 

V V 


■ *°Wm * ^ v v 


* * 


* 


0 y> V 


y ‘•Ty^’ \ . '$> 

A O *t , . s 

* ^ &\ t o N S “ i * lM « V A x - „ 

* a S, - . * & % * ~Kp rt> * 


y o * K * A K 
sv c 0 


/^\ -/, 

o 


py o°. 


Pi^* *. v * 0 / ^C v 
/ % •/ 



V l 


\ * \ V r /> 

v> A " ^ * . > 


^ * 0 N 0 





o 





Va/y ° . v ' * &d[f/Zb> * ~Kp A> * ^Vi 

; •"=> o» : mtfr - : A 

„ * .* ^ *, fife . 0 ► €ggj 

Iff " Or r Ke.~ y TsH\Y > * c e^7/ 

'5.' c^y > "’vVJ-^ <, • C- i- 

*' 4 = » 0 A . v • o , % " ' 



r.0 v v 




\ V o- 

> s’ ' a, s' 


V v * 



,\V </> 

,\V </>- 
•> •> 



4>' - 

o> ? 

*£> ° .%' SS MJ* -* 

. >'• ^ A 

^ * 0 * y. \ ASr "*/-* ^ * ft ^ •i'" \ 1 r ^ y . 

« ** ^ ( -0 k v" * 1 ^ 

1 *f* V*r ■» rA^Y V P , '-^ 0 ^ ^ ' jj, jA 

■P v Os "\- 5 y «- .^t Y/'^' st* , v "r 

♦fV V? C irs^^k^ ' '>y_, p.\ a fV—f- 4 > '■- ^ o* V ~ A 

•o- r . y'Sr^: ft O0 5 <f 7 ■ WW „ «. 

, . * = x o - -v 


: o % °«WWs 





n> ^ - o , ^C‘ 

L _ ^ /i ^ 


'* p so > * 

S V M-S 3 ft A y“. /, 

' <$■• <y ■ 0 ^ o ’ c°‘ ’O 

^ * N U X * 0 f < Z£ t 



,A- 





! C ^ 2 - *xV ^ ' -^:' W « 

,C-> O' y O ft k * \’^ . v , ^ ft ft ^ S 



./■ % 


■to ^X 1 ' * '3 >-' - 

c . % v ‘”''> .>", V" 0 “’/‘*" *7*0. 

0 : yy^sp. <• o o N 




/ /i 



C \ V ' ^ > ->A 

>. <<■ zy 

» s -0 „ , e y. 4 * v v o ' o' - , « „ * ■ 1 ' ■ o' s ' * * i ,/-' 

f ^ .0 - \ % ? I •- % A ’ 0 '. 

%y :Mi» ^..0 

>“- y -.^/ /% \ym 

x / , . s r i) » x \ 

A' 




